


a taste of lightning

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [89]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Norse Mythology, Norse Mythology - Fandom, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, M/M, Methos being the oldest thing ever because he's cool like that, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Chronological, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not Avengers compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 27,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lesson the first, child," he says softly. "Survive."</p><p>[The Old Man adopts Loki Silvertongue; goes AU after Thor]</p><p> </p><p>[will most likely never be completed]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: takes place post-movie and post-series; implied failure on the part of parents in raising of offspring (seriously, consider the canon); primordial!Methos; possibly confusing use of pronouns  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 500  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Author's choice, any, he's born a liar and he'll die a liar.  
> Note: I chose the names for a reason, but I trusted internet sources since I have no knowledge of Old Norse at all.

"Get up, child," he tells the boy lying spread on the ground.

The boy groans, then gasps. "I live," he murmurs, voice full of wonder.

"Yes," he says, leaning down to offer a hand. "It took a lot out of you, surviving that fall." He waits, unmoving, until the boy takes his hand, and then he carefully pulls the kid up. "But survive you did."

The power will return in time, that much he knows. The kid isn't one of his; he's something else. Not older, though. Nothing is older.

Odin's stench is on him, nonetheless. That meddling fool.

"Have you a name?" he asks the boy, steadying him on his feet. The kid's trembling, blinking far too much, and his eyes staying closed for longer each time.

"Of course," he slurs, slumping down. "Haven't you?"

He laughs. He has a thousand names, ten thousand, a million and more. He presses a finger to the boy's temple, and another to his chest, right over his heart.

Lightning strikes, and catches, and the boy jolts in his grip, eyes flying open.

"Lesson the first, child," he says softly. "Survive."

He sees the magic flowing through Odin's son, Laufey's son. Raised in shadow, cast aside for his bright brother – oh, yes. The potential here is staggering.

Odin has always been blind, misguided, with tendencies towards favoritism.

"And lesson the second?" the boy asks, staring at him warily.

He smiles. "Grow stronger." He lets a moment pass in silence, as stormclouds gather on the horizon. "Call me Ash," he says.

"My name is worthless," the child finally says, gazing at the dirt.

"Would you like a new one?" He gently lets go, stepping back. The boy sways in place for a heartbeat before finding his bearings again.

The child's hands clench and his jaw tightens. "Will you take me home like a starving stray?" he demands, his returned magic giving him courage, and his pain turning into fury. He needs to lash out. "Will you use me until you grow tired, and then cast me aside, toss me off the bridge and watch me fall?"

"I'll take you home, yes," he says, standing still. "I'll guide you and guard you until you're ready, and then – well. There'll be many options, then. And I'll name you Van, if you like."

The boy pauses, clearly without a clue of what to do next. He's tired. His spirit is aching. He needs to rest, and heal.

"Ash," he murmurs. "I like Van."

"Van you are," Ash says, reaching out again. The kid doesn't pull away.

So Ash pulls him in, supports him, and leads him home.

 _Odin, you utter fool_ , he thinks, weaving the shield even tighter, so the All-Seeing cannot See. _You never did understand self-fulfilling prophecies._

Ah, well. He hasn't had a student since Byron; the Highlander never qualified. And Van may not be one of his by birth, but his lightning now sings in the boy's blood and that is more than enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone can magic a complete history out of the clear blue sky, Methos can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning
> 
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander
> 
> Disclaimer: not my characters
> 
> Warnings: AU after Thor
> 
> Pairings: none
> 
> Rating: PG
> 
> Wordcount: 355
> 
> Point of view: third
> 
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Loki + Methos, it's tricky to officially adopt someone who doesn't officially exist

If anyone can magic a complete history out of the clear blue sky, Methos can. The boy – Van, Odin's cast-off, Laufey's stolen son – could, too, if he knew what was required by the modern government of anywhere. As it stands, the boy needs a lesson in the political and geographical history of a world he hasn't even glanced at in over a thousand years. If then. There were so many other worlds to explore, after all. Methos has been to each, and while Earth can be exciting… well. The only magic there is what Others bring into it.

Van learns quickly. And he's so eager to please. To the untrained eyes of humans, he appears somewhere around twenty-five (just like Methos).

In Methos' eyes, he is a child still. Of course, in Methos' eyes, anything younger than the sky is a child. (And even the sky is unbearably young sometimes.)

Watching with awe, Van can barely string together a coherent sentence as Methos weaves his magic. His madness has fully passed; his grief is on the way. But Methos gives him a complete history (familial, schooling, medical, credit, employment) for every country in the world and tells him to choose.

Van devours history books and any film he can get his hands on. It all seems medieval to him, of course, but also new. Nothing in Asgard was a surprise anymore. But Midgard, for all its faults… well, there's a reason Methos returns to it so often.

(Often. Hah. He uses a different timescale from every other creature in existence.)

"To the world," he tells the boy, "I am too young to be your father. We'll know the truth, of course. But in these identities, I'm your older brother." He smiles at Van's joy. "What would you like to do?"

Van spreads the papers on the table. "Can we do them all?" he asks.

Methos nods. "We have eternity, child. Son. Brother. We can do anything. We can do _everything_."

Van grins. He closes his eyes and picks an identity at random.

It's been a long time since Methos was so excited to begin a new life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van asks questions, purely because he wants to know. All he wants from Ash is acceptance, and a scrap of attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU after Thor; primordial!Methos  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos + Loki, What About Everything? (by Carbon Leaf)

Van is a scholar. He always has been. Once he gets past the shock of being alive, of becoming Van, of the very ancient thing Ash is... he has more questions than anyone has ever thought or dared to ask.

Ash has never answered questions truthfully. He believes that if someone wants answers, they should live long enough to discover the truth themselves.

But Van... well. Van is _his_ , in a way no one - even Kronos - has managed before. Ash's own people are thousands of megannums gone. And this boy, this broken and beautiful boy, is the closest to himself he's ever found, in all his eons of travel.

Van asks questions, purely because he wants to know. All he wants from Ash is acceptance, and a scrap of attention.

MacLeod, and the Watchers, and the godlings of four dozen pantheons - all would be shocked, to see Ash smile at the boy and answer. There is shared lightning in their blood, his and Van’s, and they have longer than anyone else fathoms to learn all there is to know.

But first, the child asks a very simple question, and so Ash says, “In the beginning… I was.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before he was Van, he had been a princeling who played pranks and relied on his tricks to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU after Thor  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 210  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos /+ Loki, they both prefer trickery but that doesn't mean they can't fight (viciously and well)

Before he was Van, he had been a princeling who played pranks and relied on his tricks to escape. Not that he couldn't fight; he just rarely did. That was why they called him Silvertongue.

But now he is Van, and his father trains him in ways of fighting that Odin and Thor never knew.

"What is the first lesson?" Da asks before they ever cross blades, or spar in one of a thousand disciplines, or take aim with whatever projectile Da chose today.

"Survive," Van says.

"And the second?" Da asks, never striking the same way twice, quicker than the lightning in their blood.

Van grins, feeling alive and powerful and loved. "Grow stronger," he answers, dodging.

Da smiles, falling silent, and Van listens to the lightning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Brother,” Thor says, ignoring his team to stare at the man with Loki. “Who is this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU after Thor  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 210  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos + Loki, reactions

“Brother,” Thor says, ignoring his team to stare at the man with Loki. “Who is this?”

“My father, Ash,” Loki says calmly. “This villain of yours – Doom, was it? – interrupted us, so.”

“You dealt with him quite viciously.” Thor looks to Ash, unsure what to say about the title Loki gave him. “Well done.”

Ash nods, eyes as cold and unfathomable as the cosmos. “We shall be on our way, then, Thunderer.”

Thor cannot help but feel a thread of unease running down his spine. “Wait, Brother,” he calls, reaching for Loki’s arm. “Please, come home. We thought you dead.”

A sword flashes before Thor’s fingers touch Loki’s sleeve. “Beware, Son of Odin,” Ash says softly, as he stands between Thor and his brother. “Ask your father about the Oldest.”

“Thor,” Stark whispers, loud enough for both Loki and Ash to hear. “What’s going on?”

Captain America steps up to stand next to Thor; the rest of his team carefully arrange themselves around him.

Ash does not look away from Thor’s eyes. “We shall take our leave, Odinson and friends,” he says, an order as sure as any Father ever gave.

Loki doesn’t meet Thor’s gaze. Ash doesn’t sheath the sword as he gently touches Loki’s shoulder and they vanish.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You remember Thor’s brother’s dad?” Clint whispers, peeking back around the door. Tony leans in, too, balancing himself on Clint’s shoulder. Clint tries to shrug him off, but Tony perseveres and Clint finally just lets him lean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers/Thor  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; primordial!Methos  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 740  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander / Avengers, Methos + Nick Fury, Fury warns the Avengers against messing with this one seemingly innocuous person

"But Boss," Barton argues, swinging around to step right in Nick's way, "if he's Thor's brother, then he's that guy who sent the robot!"

"Yes," Nick says, striding forward. Barton jumps out of the way, and then keeps beside him.

Widow waits at the door. "Ash is here," she says. "He would like to speak to you."

Nick nods, glaring at Barton until he quiets. "Stay," he orders.

Barton glares but subsides.

.

"Ash?" Clint asks Natasha. "Thor's brother's dad?"

Natasha ignores him, so Clint calls Bruce.

"We really shouldn't go snooping," Bruce says, following him down the hall, keeping watching as Clint peers into doors. “Ash seemed… well.”

Clint ducks back when he sees Fury and Thor’s brother’s dad in the middle of a very heated argument.

Ash is smirking. Not even goddamned Doom smirks at Fury. His eyes flick at Clint and his smirk widens, getting toothier. Clint shudders.

.

“What’s happenin’?” Tony bellows, sauntering down the hall. Clint shushes him and Bruce winces. “Okay, sorry,” Tony says quieter. “What’s happening?”

“You remember Thor’s brother’s dad?” Clint whispers, peeking back around the door. Tony leans in, too, balancing himself on Clint’s shoulder. Clint tries to shrug him off, but Tony perseveres and Clint finally just lets him lean.

“Thor’s brother’s dad?” Tony repeats. “The scary guy with the sword?”

“He just barged in earlier, so Fury’s meeting with him,” Clint tells him.

“He just barged in?” Tony repeats again, flabbergasted. “And Fury’s not arresting him?”

Tony studies the guy, what little he can see.

He’s smirking.

.

 

“You got some balls, brother, coming here,” Nikolas laughs.

Methos shrugs. “I’m sure the Thunderer spun a fine tale,” he says, “so I decided to let you know the truth.”

Nikolas nods. “Thor told me that his brother had been kidnapped and brainwashed by some bloodthirsty villain. Not in so many words, of course.”

Methos barks a sharp laugh. “I found him, Niko, and I’m keeping him. He’s mine. I’ll not give him up ‘til he wants to leave, and honestly – I don’t see that ever happening.”

“So, Old Man, what do you want?” Nikolas asks, getting down to business. “You’re not a villain this lifetime, and if you’ve got that boy in hand, neither is he. Why are you here?”

Methos smiles. He knows what the smile looks like – he wore it as Death, and he wore it long before then, before humanity’s ancestor crawled out of the sludge.

Nikolas shudders. “I’m here to warn you, boy,” Methos says. “Whatever Van and I get up to, it’s our business. At the moment, he’s happy to explore this world, and I shall indulge him. And if any your children take offense to that -” He shrugs.

“I understand,” Nikolas says after a moment. “And if the Asgardians take offense to you and Loki palling around on Earth?”

Methos’ smile sharpens as he bares his teeth. “Then they’ll be my problem, won’t they, Niko?”

Nikolas shudders again. Methos smirks at the children peering around the door – they stood with Odin’s trueborn son, and they think Van to be some sort of supervillain in the making.

He wonders if Thor dared ask his father about the Oldest. Odin would’ve lied if he did, and the lie was probably wonderful. Odin the Fool. Methos chuckles, focusing back on dear Nikolas. “You’re a good lad, you know,” he murmurs in the first tongue Niko ever spoke.

“I was once yours,” Nikolas responds. “Wasn’t I?”

Methos studies him for a moment, running his eyes up and down Niko’s body. He hasn’t aged, of course. His eye is still gone, and he continuously refuses to let Methos return it. “Yes,” Methos says softly. “You were mine once. But not like this, Nikolas. Leave my boy alone. I’m teaching him things you never knew, things you could never do. And it is because of our past that you get this warning. Others won’t.”

Nikolas nods. “Understood, Old Man. Now get your ass outta here.”

With one last smirk towards Niko’s little gang, Methos leans in to give Nikolas a quick kiss and then he leaves in a blaze of lightning, Niko’s shouts in his ears.

.

“What’d he say?” Van asks.

Da smiles at him. “Nothing unexpected. Come, let’s watch a movie. Have you seen _Surf’s Up_ yet? You’d like it.”

Van gives him a look, similar to the one he used to give Thor, but he lets Da distract him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hours pass, Joe and Da talking about the last decade and a half. Someone named ‘Mac’ is mentioned frequently; Van commits all the information to memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: weepy!Loki; primordial!Methos; AU after Thor  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1050  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos + Loki, Death gave him a new life

"Hey, Old Man!" the bartender calls with a laugh as Van and Da step out of the rain, Da setting the umbrella by the door. "Long time no see!"

"Hello, Joe," Da says, inclining his head. Van follows him to the bar, glancing around the room: half-full, live music, no one else like Da present. “I’m Ashton Piers this life,” Da tells the man, settling on a stool. Van sits beside him, watching the musician as he starts a new song. “This is my brother, Evan.”

“Evan, good to meet you,” Joe says, holding his hand across the bar. “’Bout time this guy got another student.”

Van shakes his hand, smiling. “Best time of my life so far,” he replies.

.

Three songs later, Joe hobbles to a backroom, gesturing for Da and Van to follow him. “Have a seat,” he says, falling into a chair. Da is more graceful as he slouches into another, and Van takes his elegantly. “Where’ve you been?” Joe asks Da. “Mac comes in a couple times a year asking about you. Fifteen years… I was startin’ to think I’d die without ever seein’ you again.”

Da shrugs. “I had business to attend to,” he says. “And then I had my hands full with the kid.”

Joe looks at him assessing. “Ad-Ashton doesn’t take many students. You must be somethin’ special.”

Van ducks his head. Before Da, it had been centuries since someone complimented him without wanting something in return.

Hours pass, Joe and Da talking about the last decade and a half. Someone named ‘Mac’ is mentioned frequently; Van commits all the information to memory. When it’s time to go, Joe asks, “I gotta know. Ashton and Evan?”

Da smiles. “Ash and Van, actually. Ash is the Norse equivalent of Adam.” Joe chuckles and Da shrugs eloquently, smirking. “And Van…” Da meets his eyes, smirk gentling into the smile Van can hardly bear, because the last – and only – person to give it to him was Mother, who knew the truth and lied for a thousand years. “Van is an approximation of _hope_.”

Van flushes. Of course, he’d known that, but he and Da never talked about it.

Joe nodded. “How soon till you drop in again, Old Man?”

Standing, Da says, “Not a clue. I was thinking the kid and I could go on a walkabout, see all the sights. Make sure that note I left on Stonehenge is still there.”

Joe gapes at him. “You messed with Stonehenge?” he demands, caught somewhere between amusement and indignation.

Da smirks again. “Well, it wasn’t a big deal yet, when I left the note. Nothing important, I’m just curious.”

Van shakes his head. His research into Midgard had revealed how today’s mortals revered the past and all the monuments still standing. Of course, Da had also told him about the little messages he’d left on them all, his joke to the future.

Joe just sighs. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Of course not,” Da laughs. “You know me, Dawson.” He grins his trickster-grin, the one Van’s begun to emulate. It’s better than the knife-sharp, ice-cold smile he wore as Loki Silvertongue, Odin’s shadowed spawn.

“It was nice to meet you,” Van tells Joe as he escorts them to the door.

“You, too, kid,” Joe says, clapping Da on the back. “Don’t be fifteen years again, Old Man.” He looks conflicted for a moment. “Mac’ll be disappointed he missed you.”

“Joe,” Da says gently, turning to meet his gaze. “MacLeod and I have eternity to catch up.” Joe nods, but he still seems bothered. Da lightly bops him on the chin. “Don’t worry, my friend. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” Joe promises. “I will.”

Van grabs the umbrella and they walk back into the rain.

.

Once back at their home, Van curls up in a comfortable chair with a volume of Native American myths. Da sits at his desk, writing in a language Van doesn’t recognize. Seven myths into the book, Van decides to ask the question he’s been wondering about since Da found him.

“Da?” he begins softly, glancing at Da before dropping his gaze. “How old are you?”

Da’s quiet for almost five minutes; he turns to look at Van, setting his pen down, and Van can’t meet his eyes. Finally, Da says, “I am old, child. Does it matter?”

“No,” Van says, shaking his head. But he’s still worried – what if Odin or the Æsir or the Jotnar learn he lives? He’d been mad, yes, and despairing, and so enraged. And Da had taught him other, better ways to do things, should he ever again feel the need to commit genocide. But surely not even Da could stand against two worlds.

“I am older than Odin,” Da says. “I am older than Asgard and Jötunheimr and any other realm you could name. I am old, Van, and I am powerful. Do not fear.” He stands and walks over, carefully taking the book from Van, marking the page, and setting it aside. He places one hand on Van’s face, cupping his jaw, and the other over Van’s heart. “You are mine,” he says, “and I am yours, for however long you want me to be.”

The lightning in Van’s blood surges, confirming the oath. Da nods, face solemn. “I will stand before you and by you. I will defend and protect. I will avenge, if you like, and bring the Æsir to their knees, choking on their own blood and bile.”

Van closes his eyes and bites his lip, so that he doesn’t burst into tears. Not even his brother ever… “Oh, my child,” Da whispers, and pulls Van into his arms.

“You are mine,” he repeats again. “I will say it every day unto forever, if I must. Never doubt it.”

“Da,” Van gasps out, fingers clutching his shirt, letting the tears he never wept during the jotnar debacle come. “Da, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Shh,” Da murmurs, shifting them around so that his back is to Van’s chair and Van is spread across his lap, cradled in his arms. “There is no shame in grief, or love. Let it out, Van. You are safe and free to do whatever you wish.”

So Van cries in his da’s arms, and he’s never been happier.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where to today?" Da asks, spinning the globe on their coffee table.
> 
> "Not where," Van says, grinning. "When."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: primordial!Methos; future!fic(ish)  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 410  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor&Avengers, Loki&Methos, time has no meaning to them, they can go anywhere, anywhen they want

"Where to today?" Da asks, spinning the globe on their coffee table.

"Not where," Van says, grinning. "When."

.

They've been to the historical world-changing moments in all the realms. Da's told him they can't change things; Van's fine with that.

Da asked him, once, as they feasted (disguised) in Vanaheim, what he would change, if Da twisted time and took them back to the life-changing moments of his life.

Van considered the points of his life where everything could've gone differently – Odin stealing him, letting the jotnar into Asgard, lying to Thor, letting go of Gungnir.

"Nothing," Van answered.

Da smiled.

.

"When to today?" Da asks, letting the globe go.

Van says, "Can you show me the beginning, Da?"

Da raises an eyebrow. "The very beginning? Back before magick and before time?"

Nodding, Van holds his breath. It's farther back than Da has ever taken him. Farther back than Da himself has gone in… forever.

It is a long moment before Da speaks. "To the very beginning of all," he murmurs, "no, my son." He meets Van's eyes. "But to the moment magick came to be? Yes." He smiles, standing up and holding out a hand to Van. "I'll take you to the first spell there ever was."

.

Odin once told Loki that while magic was powerful and useful, it would never be better than Thor's raw strength.

Loki thought, but didn't say, that if Thor ever lost his magic hammer, he'd be in trouble.

Well. Thor sure proved him wrong, didn't his oaf of a brother?

But. Loki might never win a physical battle with Thor, but Van has witnessed the creation of magick, and Da has shown him secrets Odin couldn't fathom, and while hand-to-hand is good for some things, Van can call down the very stars.

"Oh," he whispers, as Da's older sister twists her fingers, changing _everything_.

"It was beautiful," Da says quietly. "None of us knew, then."

"So beautiful," Van agrees, breathless.

.

One of Thor's enemies makes the mistake of attacking Miami while Van and Da are visiting the beach. Thor goes down hard, hitting the water and sinking. Stark and the archer are thrown back, the Widow tries to get in close, and Banner manages a blow that forces the giant-robot-mutant-thing to flinch.

But Thor is still down, and none of the rest of his team make so much as a dent.

"Van?" Da asks.

"Yes," Van decides, and he twists his fingers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I found…” Thor paused, taking a deep breath. “Mother, I found Loki. He’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: primordial!Methos; remembered child abandonment; unintended child favoritism   
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 865  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos + Odin, when he didn't go searching for his lost son because he never expected someone else to find him

Odin has admitted (to himself and Frigga) that many mistakes were made with Loki. From the beginning, in fact.

He picked the child up out of mercy. It was a cold night, after all, and the giant’s child was far too small to survive. And, yes, he knew from the moment their skin touched who the child was, and why he had been left there.

Loki was quite different from Thor. Thor was simple easy-going. Even as a toddler, he was loud and happy. But Loki – Loki was quiet, Loki was secretive, Loki’s pranks were… _strange_. He clearly adored Thor (like everyone), but the rest of the Æsir were studied and found wanting.

Looking back, holding Frigga’s hand, Odin can admit that all Loki ever sought was his approval. His _love_.

And Odin told him no. Odin told him no, and Loki let go.

.

“Father,” Thor said quietly, stepping into their chamber. “Mother.”

“Yes, Thor?” Frigga asked, holding out a hand.

Thor took her hand and sat beside her on the bed. He avoided Odin’s gaze. “I found…” Thor paused, taking a deep breath. “Mother, I found Loki. He’s alive.”

Frigga whipped her head around to glare at Odin. “You told me he was dead,” she accused.

“I thought he was,” Odin whispered.

“He looks wonderful,” Thor said, focusing on Frigga. “He’s with a man he calls _father_ , and he’s so much more powerful, Mother. He doesn’t…” Thor paused again, breath hitching. “I don’t think he misses us.”

“Oh, love,” Frigga murmured, reaching out to wrap her arms around Thor. “My son.”

Odin walked out as they began to cry together. He couldn’t decide if the nausea was rage or pain. But he knew – he feared, and he hated, but he knew.

Only one being could hide Loki from them, even when they weren’t looking, so sure of Loki’s death.

.

“Find me Methos,” Odin commanded Heimdall.

He wasn’t surprised when Heimdall failed.

.

“A little birdie told me you wanted to talk,” a voice whispered on the air, as Odin stared out over his realm.

“ _Methos_ ,” Odin hissed.

“Hello, little king,” Methos said, materializing from nothing, chuckling. “I found something you stole.” He crossed his arms, raising a brow at Odin. “I kept him, and taught him, and perfected him.”

“He isn’t yours,” Odin thundered, shaking the room around them. “ _I_ found him long before you, and I raised him!”

Methos laughed. “A thousand years is an eyeblink, _Allfather_. And you didn’t raise him. You lied to him. You conditioned him to hate and fear his own kind, and then you fell into a coma when he learned the truth.” Shaking his head, Methos continued in a patronizing tone, “You can’t be shocked at what happened, Odin. What other outcome was there?”

Odin threw a spell at Methos, out of sheer rage and frustration. Methos caught it, absorbed it, and sighed. “You utter fool, Odin. If there is war between us, you cannot but fail. You know who I am. You know _what_ I am. Let the boy go.”

“No!” Odin screamed, and the foundations shuddered. “He is _mine_ , you monster!”

Methos looked at him, as Odin shuddered with the force of his rage, his pain, his despair. He’d failed so spectacularly with his younger son. And now that he knew - _knew_ \- Loki lived… he had to get the boy back. Had to show him the truth: Odin truly loved him. And Odin regretted, so much, those centuries of misunderstanding.

“Oh, Odin.” Methos sighed again. “You still don’t understand.” He shook his head, spine straight, hands at his side. He looked young, as he always did, and weary, but there was strength in his frame. “I named the boy Van,” he said, walking to the window, staring out over Asgard’s shining towers. “He has hope again in his life now, because I found him, child.”

“Hope,” Odin scoffed. “You’re not a hope-maker, _Oldest_.” He sneered the first name he ever knew for Methos. Methos, whose name was older than planets. Methos, who burnt realms to ash and slaughtered entire continents. Methos the world-killer, Methos the ancient, Methos the last.

Methos, who stole a broken boy and remade him in Methos’ image.

No. Methos could not keep Loki. Odin would not _allow_ the abomination to keep his son.

“He is not yours,” Methos said quietly. “He never was.”

“I will save my son from you,” Odin swore, glaring at the nightmare from his own childhood, in those far-away days before he was the Allfather.

Methos shook his head. “You fool,” he muttered. “You complete, utter _fool_.” And he was gone.

Odin took deep, even breaths. He knew better than to go to Frigga’s bed tonight, so he stayed at the window, in the Methos-tainted room, and when his beloved Thor hesitantly walked to his side and asked softly, “Father, who is the Oldest? Loki called him _Ash_ when he introduced the man as his father.”

“There are things older than I am, Thor,” he said after a moment. Thor would need to know their enemy, when they challenged Methos for their lost son, their lost brother.

“Tell me, Father,” Thor requested, and so Odin did.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin will pause. He will glance at his child, his heir, Asgard’s shining son. His eyes will dart to Thor’s shoulder, where his brother should be, and he’ll look back at the horizon. 
> 
> Thor must know, he will decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: primordial!Methos; mentions of violence/death; intentionally wrong Norse mythology  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1115  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos + Odin, there's more than one way to be a god

Before he was the Allfather, Odin had been Wódin, Borr's son, grandson of Buri. He had been a giant child, a godling, potential given flesh. His mother Bestla taught him incredible magics, and together he and his brothers Wili and Wé threw down tyrant overlords, creating a great time of peace. 

In legend, that is how it goes. The truth is somewhat different.

.

“Come, brother!” Wili shouted, leading the way. Wé laughed, dodging the spell Wódin threw at his back. “Catch us if you can, littlest!” 

Wódin was merely a season younger than Wé, but he had been a weak infant, and Mother still coddled him. Wili and Wé thought themselves so much better, and to prove them wrong, Wódin needed to play such a trick Father’s court would speak of it for centuries. 

And to do that, he needed to trap his brothers. 

.

Mother’s brother Mímir was the first to ever mention the Oldest of All. He never used the Oldest’s name when he told the legends. Wili and Wé had no patience for the stories, feeling themselves far too mature for nursery tales, but Wódin listened avidly. 

The Oldest was his inspiration for the prank that finally earned his brothers’ respect.

When he is much, much older (though nowhere near as old as the Oldest), Odin will repeat those myths to his sons, and he will only realize later still, that Loki listened while Thor relived childish battles in his mind.

.

Mímir and Borr died during a misguided war. Bestla burnt herself out avenging her husband. Wili, Wé, and Wódin fought side-by-side, and after the war, took the throne together. 

In time, Wili vanished while on a quest. Wé was assassinated by an enemy Wódin then destroyed, renaming himself Odin when he sat alone on his father’s throne.

Odin married Frigga, had Thor, and found Loki. 

Before Borr’s death, before earning his brothers’ respect, Wódin met the Oldest, but for a very long time, no one knew. 

.

 _The Oldest of All_ , Mímir had said. Time beyond measure. Creator, possibly. Beyond ancient. A race of beings predating the first war, predating the Æsir and Asgard and even Yggdrasill. 

The Oldest of All. Wódin met him in Múspellsheimr and much later, realized all his great hopes had burnt into ash. 

.

"He was… he was just a man," Odin will tell Thor, staring out over Asgard. "He looked at me and dismissed me, and later, he fought against us, your uncles and I."

Odin will pause. He will glance at his child, his heir, Asgard’s shining son. His eyes will dart to Thor’s shoulder, where his brother should be, and he’ll look back at the horizon. 

Thor must know, he will decide. 

"He fought against us, though he didn’t need to. He wasn’t one of us, one of the Æsir or Vanir; he was… he never said why he fought." Odin will sigh. "Legend says," he admits softly, "that we won, and that the Vanir joined us."

"Father," Thor will say, when Odin hesitates. "Tell me. He has my brother; I must know everything."

 _Don’t lie to me,_ he means, Odin will know. _Don’t lie to me like you did Loki._

It will hurt, and Odin will close his eyes, and he will admit, softer than a breeze, "We didn’t win that war. He had us, your uncles and your grandfather and I, he had us on our knees, and then he killed Borr and he killed Mímir, and Bestla attacked and he slew her, and we were given a choice, my brothers and I."

"Father," Thor will whisper. 

"Methos, the world-killer," Odin will say, lost in memories of blood-soaked ground and bodies of the beloved, and Wili’s gasp, Wé’s scream. "Methos, Oldest of All. He gave us a choice, and we chose, and I have waited so long to avenge what was lost. He destroyed our world." 

Thor will ask, "What was the choice, Father?" in a voice Odin has never heard from him before. Gentle. Hesitant. Almost like Odin is a skittish horse. 

"The Oldest of All told us to submit and earn a throne – or defy and die. He had grown tired of Borr. Time for a change, he said." Odin will laugh, raising a hand to his mouth. "We were younger than you are now, Thor, and Methos threw down Gungnir. It landed at my feet, stained with my father’s blood, and Methos – he smiled at me, that horrible death’s grin, and he called me _little king_ , and he was gone." 

Odin will be silent for a long time, while Thor watches the sky, unable to look at his father. Odin will know it is his fault, Loki in the Oldest’s grasp, and then, finally, Thor will say, "I feel pain for your grave loss, Father."

"How is your mother?" Odin will ask, weary of gazing into the past. 

Thor will wait a moment, and then he will allow his father to move on.

.

There is a fire giant of no importance bathing himself in a hot spring. Wili and Wé hunt in the hills; Wódin is curious. He and his brothers are on a quest to find new things, and Wódin has never before spoken to a common fire giant. 

Wódin examines the fire giant’s clothes, and when the giant catches him and calls him _little thief_ , Wódin denies it, angrily naming himself Wodanaz and a lord’s son. _A lord’s son,_ he will say, defiantly raising his head, _has no need for a peasant’s rags._

Wódin will realize later how truly young he was, barely into adolescence. But he thought himself so mature, with his brothers on an adventure. 

The fire giant will laugh. _If you’ve no need of my clothes, be on your way, little king._

Wili and Wé explode out of the forest, then, yelling about dragons. They herd Wódin before them, and he does not think of the fire giant for a long time. 

Not until the war with the Vanir, and Father dies on Gungnir, and Mímir bows his head, his last words a murmured apology. 

For the rest of his life, Odin will always feel out of place on his father’s throne.

.

(“Why do you hate Odin so much?” Van asks. 

Ash says, “I once had a brother.” It was long, long ago. 

And when Ymir was weakened, having used too much magick too quickly, a king and his own brother took advantage. 

Because they were little more than children, he had allowed the king’s sons to live - Wili, Wé, and Wódin. 

Van nods. A moment passes, and then he asks, “Will Odin do something – foolhardy?”

Laughing, Ash shrugs. “More than likely,” he says.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Father told me about you,” Thor says quietly. 
> 
> “I’m sure he did,” Ash replies, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 365  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Thor/Highlander, Methos + Thor, mutual respect

When he sees Ash sitting in the coffee shop, Thor makes a snap decision: instead of attacking, he approaches respectfully, warrior to warrior, and asks for a discussion. 

Ash nods to the seat across from him and buys Thor a coffee.

.

“Father told me about you,” Thor says quietly. 

“I’m sure he did,” Ash replies, smirking. 

Thor thinks about long-ago battles, and blood on the ground, and a lonely throne. 

And he thinks about Loki’s smile, and how he looked at Ash, those few times they’ve met since Loki’s fall, and he asks, “Can you tell me?” When Ash tilts his head, Thor clarifies, “The man my brother is now. With you.” 

Ash smiles and begins, “He’s brilliant, Van is. A quicker hand with magic I’ve never seen.”

.

When Thor leaves, he’s not sure what to do. Father spoke of a world-killer, of a monster who destroyed entire peoples ( _like Loki tried_ , a little voice whispers, but Thor ignores that). But the man who bought Thor a coffee and bragged about his son ( _in a way Father never did about Loki_ , another little voice whispers) – he’s not the same man. 

Many of the humans Thor has met on Misgard, the ones who know about Loki, don’t understand why Thor can so easily ignore their last meeting, what Loki tried to do. But a thousand years outweighs a few days, and Loki had been so hurt, so angry. Thor just wishes Loki had gone to him for help, but he understands why Loki didn’t. Why Loki felt he couldn’t. 

Loki, who has become Van, and loves Ash in a way Thor isn’t sure he ever loved Father. 

He looks up at the sky, then back at the coffee shop, and he nods, having decided. 

Whatever is between Father and Ash, it has no bearing on Thor and Van. So he hurries back into the coffee shop, back to Ash’s table, and he asks hopefully, “Will you give Van a message from me?”

Ash nods. “Of course, Thor.” 

Thor says, “Tell him he is my brother still. And I… I’d really like to talk to him again.” 

Patting his hand, Ash says, “I’ll give him the message, Thor.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of her teachers had no name except Oldest, and when she recited the legends her mother had taught her, he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Thor/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: inaccurate Norse mythology; remembered kidnapping; weepy!Loki  
> Pairings: Odin/Frigga  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 800  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Frigga's view on this whole mess.

There are ways of travel that do not involve the newly-reconstructed Bifrost, and magics that block Heimdall’s gaze. Frigga taught them to her youngest son when he was first discovering magic. Loki had been a gifted child, quick to pick up everything she showed him. 

She knew that they should tell Loki the truth, and Frigga never let her handmaidens or any courtier in her hearing speak ill of the jotnar. 

Loki, she knows, does not blame her the way he does Odin. While she is glad of it, she wishes he did – she could have told him at any point in the last thousand years. She _should_ have told him. But Odin forbade any talk of Laufey and the lost heir, and Frigga – to her shame and rage – obeyed. And now the Oldest has her beloved Loki… 

For a week, she bars Odin from their bed, and then she leaves Asgard in disguise. 

.

_There once was a young girl who went wandering. She learned magic from the mountains and the ocean and slept on the highest branch of the World-Tree. She found many friends on her journey, and a few enemies, and when she returned, she was a woman._

_One of her teachers had no name except Oldest, and when she recited the legends her mother had taught her, he laughed._

_He had a lovely laugh, she thought, and she demanded he teach her something no one else knew._

_‘And what would you learn, little queen?’ he asked. ‘What secrets of the ages would you learn, forgotten by all but an old, lonely man?’_

_The woman-to-be looked at him for a moment, at his ancient eyes, and murmured, ‘Will you teach me to see the future?’_

_‘Oh, child,’ he whispered, ‘that is a lesson you will regret you learned.’ But he taught her._

_As she returned home, she foresaw a great battle, and the Oldest throwing down the broken king. She foresaw her marriage, and her sons, and she closed her eyes._

_Little queen, he had called her. Oh, yes, she regretted the lesson, but she never wished it away._

.

 

Baldr, Thor, and Loki. Two shining sons and one dark. Odin clearly favored the elder boys, so Frigga spent more time with Loki. And when a prank gone wrong gravely wounded Baldr, Frigga sent him to her sister Freja for a time. 

Baldr, the daring boy, took himself out of the succession when he wed Nanna, one of Freja’s handmaidens, without permission from Odin – or even word that they had been courting. Baldr never returned from Vanaheimr, no matter how Frigga entreated him. 

When she learned that Odin had banished Thor, she bit her tongue to keep from cursing him. When he fell into the Odin-Sleep a mere moment after Loki learned the truth, she clenched her fingers to keep from maiming him in his helplessness. 

.

Odin led their victorious army home, and gave to Frigga a third son. Baldr had recently begun training as a warrior and Thor had just started toddling around, and Frigga already missed holding an infant. 

“Whose child is this?” she asked, looking into bright green eyes. 

“Ours,” Odin said.

.

“Little queen,” the Oldest says as he opens the door. 

“Hello,” she replies, standing tall and strong, like a goddess. 

He smiles at her and asks, “Here to talk to the boy?” 

Frigga nods. He steps back to let her in, and then asks, “What have you foreseen?” 

_I saw my boys happy_ , she thinks, _and you are the reason why_. 

“Mother,” Loki gasps, and she turns her head to look at him, the son of her heart. 

“Hello, dearest,” she says, and holds her arms wide. 

.

_There was once a boy who fell from a bridge. He was the son of two kings and a goddess, a young sorcerer who had lost his way._

_He was found by a legend and a monster, and the goddess wept to know he was gone – wept in sorrow that he had fallen, and wept in joy as she watched his healing from afar_. 

.

“Oh, my dear, my love, my sweet,” Frigga murmurs in his ear, holding her boy as tight as she can. 

“Mother, Mama,” he sobs, fingers clutching her coat. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” the Oldest says, nodding to her. “Van, when you’re able, bring her to the kitchen.” 

Loki – _Van_ , Van, he was Van now, the Oldest’s pupil. 

No, she realizes, many things suddenly making sense. Van is not the Oldest’s pupil. He is not simply a student, not like she had been, all those millennia ago. 

Van is the Oldest’s son. Son of his heart, just as Loki had been the son of hers. 

Van does not respond to the Oldest, except to clutch Frigga tighter, and she weeps. _My boy_ , she thinks, _you are gone from me now_. 

“Mother,” he whispers, “Mother, I fell for so long.”

“Yes,” she whispers back, “and he found you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor lives with the Avengers in Stark's building. And while Van could get in and out no problem, he'd rather not have their conversation derailed by well-meaning 'heroes.' So he leaves a note on Mjölnir and waits in a park a mile from Stark's building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic; AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 540  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Thor, Thor + Loki, mending bridges both literal and figurative

After Da gives Van the message from Thor, Van takes a burning-hot shower. He stands with the water hitting his back, keeping the temperature scalding for - a long time. Long enough to contemplate his earliest memories all the way to his fall.

His fall. When he let go. When Thor's eyes followed him down, and he heard his brother's cry.

His brother. Thor is still his brother. Thor still claims him. _He called you Van_ , Da said, one hand on Van's shoulder. _He'd like to talk to you._

Van has saved Thor's life five times since Loki's fall. Thor has sat and talked with Da like an adult, with no anger or self-entitlement anywhere near.

Thor called him _brother_ and wants to talk.

Van turns off the water.

.

Thor lives with the Avengers in Stark's building. And while Van could get in and out no problem, he'd rather not have their conversation derailed by well-meaning 'heroes.' So he leaves a note on Mjölnir and waits in a park a mile from Stark's building.

.

"Brother!" Thor booms, hurrying towards him, wearing a wrinkled shirt and half-buttoned pants, hair still dripping. Thor pauses as Van rises to his feet, and then he lunges forward, scoops Van up, and gives him the best hug he's ever received from Thor.

"Brother!" Thor says again, quietly, hands clutching Van's shirt.

.

They sit on a bench and watch passers-by, and Thor listens as Van tells him their life as he knew it.

Thor saw everything differently. Thor lived a different life, the beloved, the bright.

"You're happy," Thor says, smiling at him. "Brother, I'm glad."

 _Brother_ , he says. Not Loki. Not Van. _Brother._

"I am," Van replies. "Tell me – are you enjoying your life as a Midgardian superhero?"

Thor grins and begins telling Van more than he ever wanted to know about the travails of humanity's struggle.

They stay at the park until the sun sets. Until Van rises, and Thor catches his sleeve. Until Thor looks up at him, for once the taller, and Thor asks, "Van – brother – will I see you again? I have enjoyed these past few hours."

Van smiles at him, and leans down to kiss his forehead, and murmurs, "Brother, of course I'll see you again." Another kiss and he vanishes from right between Thor's fingers.

He lingers, invisible and insubstantial, to watch Thor's reaction. Thor stares, and then he laughs, and then he calls out, "I know you're there, my brother. Give your father my thanks!"

Van feels so much relief he can't help but sigh.

.

"How'd it go?" Da asks as Van slumps down on the couch.

"Marvelously," Van answers. "I can't believe it… he's so grown-up now. We actually talked."

Talked for hours, about everything and nothing, and if only _this_ Thor had been the one about to be crowned…

Van looks over at Da, sprawled out over the loveseat, one of his own journals in his hand.

The Thor from the park only happened because Loki let go and became Van. Da smiles at him and turns a page.

Next time, Van decides, he'll pop up for a brotherly talk during one of Thor's battles. Just because he can.

Little brothers are meant to cause trouble, right?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jötnar had legends of the Oldest, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology
> 
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; intentionally inaccurate Norse mythlogy  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 865  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: The Jotun once told stories of the Oldest, too.

When Odin first approached the new king of the jötnar, Býleistr, for peace between their realms, in the wake of Laufey's death, Býleistr demanded the lives of those who attacked Jötunheimr with the Bifrost.

Thankfully, no one knew who had committed that atrocity. Everything had happened so quickly – Thor's banishment, Odin's healing sleep, Loki's madness.

Few of the Æsir had known, so fewer still outside knew.

So Odin told Býleistr, "I cannot give him to you." When Býleistr growled, Odin said, "Peace. The Oldest has taken him."

Býleistr accepted that and the negotiations continued.

The jötnar had legends of the Oldest, too.

.

Once, the story goes, Jötunheimr was a paradise. Ice was only in the highest mountains. Thrym ruled in those days, and Jötunheimr stood among the realms, powerful and respected.

The troubles began, so the tale continues, when Ymir rested by the shore of a jötunn lake and was slain by Æsir.

Jötunheimr was cursed forever after. The Oldest, known among the jötnar as Thiazi, flew over Paradise and called down spells of pain and rage, of cold and ice, of eternal _frost_. Because Ymir's blood was spilt and Thrym protected his slayers instead of delivering them for justice, Thiazi demanded vengeance and his magic made it so.

Never again, the legends end, will Jötunheimr be allied with Asgard.

.

"Did you get the name of those responsible for Utgard's destruction?" Helblindi asked when Býleistr returned from meeting with Odin. They'd agreed to meet in Ālfheimr, under the watchful eyes of the impartial álfar.

"No," Býleistr told his brother. "Only one was responsible, and his name is lost." Býleistr looked out at the mess, at his people rebuilding their stronghold. "The Oldest took him."

Helblindi grinned. "That is good, brother. I hope he suffered."

.

The Oldest is a terrifying monster. Even the monsters fear him, huddled in the dark as the wind howls. He is nemesis to all.

If he turns his gaze to you, do not even attempt to run.

The Oldest is the most powerful sorcerer in all nine realms and the most magnificent warrior of all the races. The Oldest planted Yggdrasil. The Oldest created each realm and each race, and could crush them all in his palm, should he so wish.

The Oldest takes those who betray, and their names are lost forever after.

The Oldest is a legend, originally told to explain the unexplainable, and though the Æsir forgot, the jötnar never did.

.

The Oldest took the one who tried to kill all of the jötnar. Odin would not dare to lie about that. And so the King of Jötunheimr, Laufey's heir, was satisfied, as was his younger brother.

Býleistr announced their attacker's fate to a resounding roar of approval.

Peace was again in Jötunheimr as the Casket of Ancient Winters came home, gifted by Thiazi before his curse fell, the source of Jötunheimr's power. Its return was the final demand of the jötnar.

.

Ymir died in Jötunheimr. Thiazi waited centuries to avenge his brother on the murderers, but he punished the jötnar for letting him die.

When Methos finishes the tale, Van says, "It's been an eternity, Da. All of the jötnar alive then are dead. Do you not think the winter has lasted long enough?"

Methos thinks about that for a little while, and then he offers, "Would you like to accompany me to Jötunheimr?"

"Will they know who I was?" Van asks.

"No," Methos replies. "They won't know who I am, either." Grinning, he stands and holds out a hand. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's go end winter."

.

Loki grew up hating the jötnar, and it drove him mad to learn he actually was one. Odin's fault, Methos knew, though a few others held blame, and the whole thing could be traced back to Ymir's death. And Methos hadn't known or cared what his vengeance wrought until he nearly tripped over a boy who had just fallen to Earth.

Methos takes them to the deepest cavern in Jötunheimr, where he and his brothers had played in the time before memory.

"Sing the song of spring," Methos tells Van. "Hear the lightning in your blood and dance to the music."

Van closes his eyes and when he starts to hum, starts to move, Methos echoes him, mirrors him, and the heart of Jötunheimr begins to thaw.

.

Helblindi, disbelieving, delivers the news. "Brother," he says, eyes wide, "the snow… it's _melting_."

"What?" Býleistr demands, hurrying outside.

The snow is melting. Býleistr gapes, and all the jötnar feel warmth seeping from the ground.

Lightning flashes, high in the sky.

.

When Odin hears about the change in Jötunheimr, he sends a message to Methos, written in air and thunder.

 _What are you doing?_ he asks. _You cursed Jötunheimr, just like you killed my father, in some game nobody else is privy to._

 _Oh, poor little king_ , is the reply, sent in a bolt of lightning. _Fear not, Son of Borr. You might realize someday._

Methos' laugh booms across the sky as a storm breaks over Asgard, the first in living memory.

 _Or not, little thief_ , the Oldest croons, and Odin flinches, turning to look at Frigga, who watches the storm with a smile.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki was able to hide Fenrir for almost a month. Whether that was due to his skill or that he was mostly an afterthought to all but Mother, he wasn't sure – and tried not to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; inaccurate Norse mythology; mentions of violence/death  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1885  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: what the heck happened to Loki's kids?

When Loki was a child, barely into adolescence, he found an Ālfar wolf while he, Thor, and Thor's friends went adventuring in Ālfheimr. (Even then, they were Thor's friends. Loki's friends were scholars and magicians and sages, men and women of learning Thor had no time for. And Loki barely knew Baldr, the brother who ran to Vanaheimr and never returned.)

Loki found a wolf pup when he meandered after Thor and his friends. Loki studied the landscape, seeing how it differed from Asgard and all the other places they'd been. Thor, Sif, and Hogun hunted whatever they could; Fandral and Volstagg swapped battle stories of their training sessions. None of them seemed to remember Loki was there, so he took his time.

He heard whimpering and tracked it back to a den. His companions moved on ahead, so none of them saw him blanch at the carnage he found: a litter of wolf pups, their mama, and their father, all stabbed to death. But one of the pups was still breathing, still trying to move to its mama.

Loki knelt down, put his hands on the pup, and whispered a healing spell he learned from Mother. The pup jerked in his grip as its' wounds healed. It was young, only days old. Loki studied it intently and asked, "Are you male or female?" He reached out spirit-to-spirit, a forbidden art he knew only because he secretly read the oldest books available, and felt the pup's mind – it was male.

"You're too young to survive if I let you go," he mused, cradling the pup close. "And my brother wouldn't understand why I want to keep you." He stared down at the pup as it burrowed in as close as possible.

"Very well," he said, standing and taking a step, appearing back in his room. Mother had taught him that, as well, how to travel without using the Bifrost.

"I name you Fenrir," Loki said, setting him on the bed, "for the fen in which I found you." _Fenrir the Great Wolf_ , he thought, but no one would call him that for a long time.

.

Loki was able to hide Fenrir for almost a month. Whether that was due to his skill or that he was mostly an afterthought to all but Mother, he wasn't sure – and tried not to think about.

Father yelled a great deal about dangerous beasts in his palace, but Mother cut across him to ask, "And has the wolf done anything destructive?"

"He attacked Tyr," Father declared, glaring at Fenrir, who was bound in a magical chain meant to sap his strength, since he was already the size of the hogs slaughtered for Æsir feasts. Loki had negated the magic immediately, but Father didn't notice.

Fenrir's eyes were on Loki. He was completely still, trusting in Loki to keep him safe. Fenrir's mind had reached out once, when Father first bound him, and he stopped struggling when he realized Loki had broken the spell.

"He thought Tyr was attacking Loki," Mother said. "I am glad Loki has such a staunch protector."

Loki kept his gaze on the floor by Father's feet. In the month he'd had Fenrir, the wolf had come to mean everything to him. Fenrir adored Loki simply for being _Loki_ , for taking care of him, for exploring the shadows with him. Loki only loved his family more, and what Father decided to do now could change everything.

"My husband," Mother said, "you only learned of the wolf when he protected our son. Had anyone complained about him before?"

Father scoffed. "I suppose you knew of the beast?" he demanded, glaring down at Fenrir again. Loki glanced up for a moment, caught Father's expression, and reinforced his spell on the chains, keeping Fenrir from harm.

"Of course I knew," Mother said. "I determined the wolf to be harmless unless provoked, like many of our warriors I know." She placed a hand on Father's arm. "Let the boy keep his pet."

Silence filled the hall while Father considered Fenrir's fate. Finally, he proclaimed, "You may keep the wolf until it is grown, Loki. And then it will be returned to Ālfheimr, and that will be the end of things."

"Thank you, Father," Loki murmured, and Father muttered the spell that allowed the chain to fall off.

"One condition, my son," Father added, as Loki moved forward to touch Fenrir's shoulder. "If it attacks anyone else, it will be put down." Father's voice was firm, and his eyes still angry. Loki didn't know why, or what he'd done; as Mother said, Fenrir was only defending him. Yes, Tyr had attacked him in training, but it had been so ferocious, Loki actually did fear for a moment. It was only then that Fenrir leapt to his defense, shedding the invisibility spell Loki had placed on him.

Fenrir was still a pup, little more than a month old. But he was an Ālfar wolf and they grew to the size of Asgardian horses. Tyr had rightfully feared for his life, and Loki had never been gladder for his quick reflexes. Had Tyr died, Fenrir would already be dead.

But, Loki couldn't help wondering, watching Father stride away, if Fenrir would be safe, had it been Thor who brought him home.

.

Over the next year, as Fenrir doubled, then tripled in size, fed by Idun's magical cooking, Loki spent longer and longer stretches away from Asgard. He and Fenrir traveled further afield and Loki taught Fenrir how to hunt, how to be a wolf, and how to be a sorcerer, since his magic leaked all over his wolf. Loki shifted into various kinds of wolves, though his favorite was the Helwolf, native to Niflheimr, the ice realm of the dead. He and Fenrir spent the longest time there, and only Vidar, one of Father's most trusted men, got them back to Asgard. Loki had also taught Fenrir how to take ás form, though Fenrir had yet to master it.

When Loki and Fenrir stood before Father again, Fenrir now larger than any horse in Father's stable, Father said, "Take the wolf back to Ālfheimr."

Loki bowed his head, his hand trembling on Fenrir's shoulder. "Yes, Father," he whispered.

.

Loki returned from Ālfheimr alone. He threw himself into his studies, ignoring Father as politely as possible while still craving Father's approval. Thor was wrapped up with his training, and had barely noticed Loki's absence.

Fenrir knew how to hide better than any wolf Ālfheimr had ever seen. Loki checked on him astrally, but when a hunting party (since the Great Wolf ate _tremendous_ amounts) chased him to Svartálfaheimr, he left Loki's range.

Loki stepped out of his room and into a svartálfar war party, also after the Great Wolf, a predator unlike any known before. But Fenrir was in Loki's range again and he screamed to his greatest friend, _To Hel! Fenrir, to Hel!_

Fenrir's howl answered him and the dark elves all flinched, but Loki raised his head and howled back.

As the warriors turned, weapons ready, Loki lunged to Niflheimr, where his wolf waited.

Fenrir rushed to Loki and bumped against him, almost knocking him over, seeking mind-to-mind contact, and Loki buried his hands in Fenrir's fur, meeting him and opening wide.

"I will give your wolf sanctuary, young prince," Hel said, voice reverberating off the ice, "if he swears allegiance to me."

 _I am loyal to none but Loki_ , Fenrir growled, ruff rising, turning to glare at the Lady of the Dead, and placing his gigantic body between them.

Hel's laughter was shards of ice along Loki's spine, for all that he adored her. "You will obey my orders, Wolf," she said. "But nothing I command shall ever harm Loki."

 _You'll be safe here, under Hel's protection_ , Loki told him. _None will hunt you in Niflheimr._

 _For how long will I be here?_ Fenrir asked, sitting down, still watching Hel warily.

"You will know when," Hel promised.

.

Loki left Fenrir in Niflheimr as one of Hel's vassals, and soon enough the Great Wolf was feared as a herald of death.

No one noticed Loki's frequent absences; not even Mother seemed to realize all the time he spent away, running as a Helwolf with Fenrir.

As the years passed, Fenrir entreated Loki to leave Asgard and stay in Niflheimr, or they could travel again. Fenrir had a slightly better grasp on shifting magic, and Loki could always disguise him, anyway.

Fenrir stayed healthy and young because of Idun's cooking in his youth, and as one of Hel's vassals, he'd been granted immortality.

"So long as he is yours," she swore to Loki, "he will live, strong and powerful, as the Great Wolf."

Nine hundred years passed. He was almost as old as Loki when Thor's coronation was interrupted, Thor got banished, Father fell into his ill-timed healing sleep, and Loki was swallowed by madness.

Fenrir was in Múspellsheimr on an errand for Hel when Loki fell from the Bifrost. And then Ash cloaked Van in the strongest shielding spell in all the worlds.

Hel kept Fenrir so busy he didn't notice how much time had passed until Van and Ash stepped foot in Niflheimr a year after Loki's fall.

 _Loki!_ Fenrir howled, bounding over, the Great Wolf of Hel.

"Well, now, you _are_ a big boy," Ash said. "The kid must've fed you quite well."

Fenrir studied him, and Van's body language in relation to him, and then nudged Van's mind.

Van let him all the way in, fingers tangled in Fenrir's fur, and whispered, _I missed you_.

"It's time, my dear," Ash told Hel quietly.

"Yes, my liege," she replied.

.

Fenrir strode beside Van when they left, sleek and powerful, looking enough like Van to be his brother.

Ash told him, "Be careful when you hunt – I'd rather not fight a war this week, and Van just started talkin' with that oaf of a big brother again."

Fenrir snorted. "Like I'd cause trouble for him." Baring his teeth at Ash, he said, "He was mine long before he was yours."

" _He_ is right here," Van interjected.

Laughing, Ash clapped him on the shoulder and brought them home. "Take him on a tour," Ash said. "I'll cook dinner. Tomorrow, we'll show him the rest of our territory."

Fenrir walked too close to Van, constantly bumping him, but Van just grabbed his wrist and held on, showing him their apartment, and then standing next to him at the window, showing him a new world.

"Should I have a new name?" Fenrir asked.

"Yes," Van answered. "A new name for a new life. What would you like?"

Fenrir kept staring out the window as he shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, Lo – Van."

Van smiled. "Well, Da and I have a theme going, so how about Gunnar?"

"Warrior?" he chuckled. "I like it."

Van watched him, as he continued to stare out the window. Gunnar had golden eyes and black hair, and he looked so much like Van it was uncanny.

"I think I'll like this world," Gunnar mused, finally looking away from the window to meet Van's gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes.

"C'mon, you pups!" Ash yelled from the kitchen. "Chow time!"

Gunnar licked his lips and Van led the way.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Would you like a realm of your own?" he asked, heart as cold as the curse he placed on Jötunheimr, playing the long game. "It would be a world of ice, a world of the dead. You would be their goddess, their queen, feared by all beings in all worlds."
> 
> Hel simply stared at him and said, "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; inaccurate Norse mythology; mentions of violence/death  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 925  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: what the heck happened to Loki's kids?

In the time before memory, when all was young and good and bright, there lived children of stardust and light. The firstborn had no name and thought of itself as _I_ ; it named its siblings as they came be: Ymir, Aurgelmir, Audumla, Mundilfäri, Dellingr, Nór, Vindsval, Svosud, and Élivágar.

As time passed and the others realized the eldest of them had no name of its own, they called it Fyrstr. As the rest of the creation came to be, the siblings broke off into their own worlds until only Fyrstr and Ymir remained.

"We should travel," Fyrstr suggested. "I'm getting bored."

.

Fyrstr and Ymir went where they liked and did what they wanted. Ymir kept his name and shape, but Fyrstr experimented with both. Together they worked amazing magicks, and were worshiped as gods for a very long time.

In Vindsval's realm, Niflheimr, Fyrstr found a marvel: a giant's daughter, born half dead. Because even he (for the moment Fyrstr was both male and a giant) had never seen her like, he decided to stay and tutor her in magic.

Their time was cut short when Ymir died, murdered by Borr and Mímir, a young king and his brother by marriage. Fyrstr took the shape of a jötunn and cursed Jötunheimr, where Ymir had died. And then, instead of going to war with Asgard, Fyrstr returned to the giant's child, called Hel.

"Would you like a realm of your own?" he asked, heart as cold as the curse he placed on Jötunheimr, playing the long game. "It would be a world of ice, a world of the dead. You would be their goddess, their queen, feared by all beings in all worlds."

Hel simply stared at him and said, "Yes."

.

Hel _was_ feared. Her realm was Niflheimr, land of the dead, and she was their lady. She had a court of monsters, outcast from the other realms, sent on errands. Usually, they fetched people who forgot to die.

Millenniums passed. Hel had nearly grown bored when a little jötunn who looked like an ás wandered into Niflheimr. He was barely more than a toddler, this child, and he gazed around in wonder.

"And who are you?" Hel asked, appearing before him as a beautiful ás woman.

"I am Loki, son of Odin and Frigga," the child replied, smiling up at her.

Hel was flummoxed. The son of Asgard's king was actually a jötunn, and he found his way to Niflheimr?

"I am Hel," she told him. He did not seem to recognize the name, and she chose not to enlighten him. "This is my realm."

"I like it," Loki said. "It's pretty. And quiet."

"You can return, if you wish it," she said, holding out a hand. "Let me show you to the palace."

He took her hand and chattered the whole way, about his studies and his brother and his father the king and his mother the smartest, nicest, prettiest lady in all the worlds. Hel found herself unable to help being charmed by the boy.

.

In the coming years, Loki visited relatively often, even after he realized who she was. She taught him magics his mother didn't know, the court's magicians didn't know. Magics Fyrstr had taught her, and that no one still living knew. Loki practiced changing shape and transfiguring other things, and he mastered them all, sheltered in Hel's home.

When Loki was an adolescent, no longer a child but not quite a man, he brought a companion to visit with him: an álfar wolf he called Fenrir. The wolf had been unknowingly changed by Loki, until he was more of a sorcerer than a beast. He had magic of his own, taken from Loki, both of them unaware until Hel pointed it out. She knew that Fenrir could no longer be happy as a simple wolf. And she also knew that no ás – no one in all the realms, actually – would let him live. He was simply too dangerous. But Loki loved him, and he loved Loki, so Hel marked him as her own. And when the elves chased him from their land, Hel welcomed him as one of her court, on loan from Loki, until the time came.

The time, yes. When her teacher returned, as he would – the loom showed her the truth, and Loki, a frost giant disguised as an Asgardian child, would soon enough interest the Oldest, that living legend.

She could babysit until then; it was no hardship to guard Loki or have a new vassal of unparalleled strength.

.

"You play a dangerous game, my lady," Gullveig told her while Loki ran with Fenrir through her realm. The boy was older now, practically a man, nearing a thousand years. He sought escape in Niflheimr, somewhere he fit. Somewhere people cared.

Hel never interfered in Asgard. She had no interest in Odin or his realm, or his forays into others, save when ás refused to yield to her supremacy. She never intervened with Æsir policy, or the policy of any realm.

Still, she _did_ think about going to Odin's palace and thumping his skull, demanding to know how he'd gotten so stupid, so _blind_ , even for a one-eyed fool.

"I play no game," she replied to Gullveig; Heid, Gullveig's twin, cackled. Hel ignored her.

The time swiftly approached. Fyrstr, the Oldest, was turning his gaze from Midgard for the first time in an age.

Hel smiled, watching the two boys play. Soon the realms would tremble when the Oldest walked among them again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water was warm and so he kept going, until he couldn't touch the bottom anymore; he shifted into a long, sleek serpent, like the one his tutors said encircled the worlds in its coils. A legend, of course, he'd informed his tutors. No creature could be so huge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; inaccurate Norse mythology  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 990  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: what the heck happened to Loki's kids?

When Loki was in adolescence and all of Thor's time taken by training, Mother decided to visit Baldr in Vanaheimr. Baldr's wife Nanna had just birthed yet another child and Mother decided it was past time to meet her grandchildren. Loki was missing Fenrir (not that he ever mentioned his wolf in Father's halls) and thought the distraction worth it, so he accompanied Mother on her travels.

Mother spent the whole trip in the women's quarters with Nanna, Freja, Skadi, and all their attendants and children. Loki wandered as he usually did, and one day, halfway through their time in Vanaheimr, he found himself by the sea.

He had been to the shore, of course, but not this one. He looked around, saw no one, and then stepped into the surf. The water was warm and so he kept going, until he couldn't touch the bottom anymore; he shifted into a long, sleek serpent, like the one his tutors said encircled the worlds in its coils. A legend, of course, he'd informed his tutors. No creature could be so huge.

 _Hello, little thing_ , a voice rumbled, sounding like deep caverns and dark water. Loki flinched, spinning around, and there – the World Serpent. He couldn't be anything else. His _eye_ was larger than Fenrir. _You have swum far_ , he continued, staring at Loki.

 _I, I'm sorry_ , Loki said, starting to sink, since he was too scared to move.

 _Oh, it's no matter_ , the World Serpent told him, and if he was trying for reassuring, he distinctly missed the mark. _I am in all waters_ , he explained.

 _That's nice_ , Loki said, gathering all his courage to swim back for the surface. _I'll just get out of your way, sir._

 _No_ , the World Serpent said, and Loki found himself unable to move. _Speak to me, little thing. I've been long with only gods as my companions. I've grown bored with them all. Entertain me. What is your name?_

 _I'm Loki_ , he said, and suddenly his serpent's skin shed and he was in his normal form, able to breathe and see as usual, but completely nude. And, _oh_ , but the World Serpent was so _enormous_ Loki could only see his head.

 _Tell me about yourself, Loki_ , the World Serpent ordered, and so Loki told him. Everything he could think of, from how he'd long since outstripped his tutors, to Thor's boorish friends, to how he strained for Father's approval and never earned it, to Fenrir and the goddess who'd stolen him from Loki.

 _You are interesting, young prince_ , the Serpent mused. He twined around Loki, seemingly normal-sized for a moment. His skin burned Loki where it touched him, leaving imprints of scales. Loki hissed, but the Serpent pulled away.

 _Be returned to Vanaheimr's shore, Loki of Asgard_ , the World Serpent commanded. _And when I call, come. You'd not like me to fetch you from your father's realm, surely._

 _Thank you, sir_ , Loki replied, trembling, but then his feet touched the bottom, so he rushed out of the waves to collapse on the beach.

A head larger than Loki's bedchamber rose out of the water. Loki waited, holding his breath, but the Serpent left without another word.

Loki lay on the sand for a long time before stumbling back to the guest quarters and hiding under his bed. He was quiet for the rest of the visit, and did not return to the beach.

.

As time passed, Loki almost convinced himself he'd imagined the whole thing. But while Father was fussing at Thor for another unprovoked attack on the trolls, Loki's side burned, the shape of scales on his skin.

He snuck away to the ocean in Muspelheim and went for a swim. This time, the World Serpent was smaller, the size of a large dragon, and he ordered, _Swim with me, little thing_.

Loki took sea serpent form again, and never tired, caught in the Serpent's wake. They discussed pranks and tricks and magick so old it had no name. Days passed; it seemed they swam in all the worlds' oceans, but the Serpent had a wicked sense of humor, and he taught Loki to hunt whales and sharks, and he never mocked or criticized Loki. In fact, he reminded Loki of both Mother and Hel, and when the time came, Loki didn't really want to leave the water.

But then Fenrir howled on the shore, and the World Serpent said, _Go, Loki. Be among your kind again._

 _Thank you_ , Loki told him.

The World Serpent smiled. _You are welcome. I will summon you again._

Loki surged up through the waves, changing to a helwolf as he hit the shallows. Fenrir bounded to him and they chased each other away from the shore.

.

It would be years before the Serpent called Loki again. Loki had fallen and become Van, and Ash raised an eyebrow as Van's side burned.

"You _do_ have interesting friends," Da said. "What a shame nobody in Asgard had the smarts to realize that."

Van shrugged, wincing. Da rolled his eyes. "C'mon, kiddo," he said, herding Van down the stairs. "You don't really want him to come snatch you, right?"

Shaking his head, Van opened the door and wasn't surprised to see the Pacific Ocean, or the Serpent's head rising out of it.

 _Brother_ , the World Serpent said. _Loki_.

"Van, now," Da said. "Hullo, Jörmungandr. I've been waiting for you to resurface."

 _We'll speak after I've visited with the child_ , the Serpent said, almost brusquely.

"Of course, Brother," Da replied. "Van, have fun." But his gaze sharpened as he looked back at the Serpent, and Van _knew_ they were having a conversation he couldn't hear.

The Serpent leaned in, until his enormous nose was as close as possible to Da. Whatever he said, Van had no idea, but Da responded with a firm, " _Yes_."

The Serpent pulled back. _Come, little thing_ , he said, so Van grinned at Da and rushed into the waves.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin's favorite steed was a stallion named Svadilfari, who only allowed Odin to ride him. Svadilfari was mean, bad-tempered, and fierce – the perfect horse for the King of Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; inaccurate Norse mythology; completely BS magical explanations  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1015  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: what the heck happened to Loki's kids?

When Loki was still toddling around and exploring everything, watched curiously by Thor and ignored by Baldr, Odin's favorite place to take him was the stable. Loki adored the horses and they were quite careful with him, far smarter than any other horses in Asgard, since Odin's magic sometimes leaked onto them (quite accidently, but he corrected it anytime he noticed. The horses _were_ slightly altered, though).

No matter what Loki imagined or babbled about, however, Odin was quite sure all of his horses were simply _horses_ , no matter _how_ smart they might be.

Odin's favorite steed was a stallion named Svadilfari, who only allowed Odin to ride him. Svadilfari was mean, bad-tempered, and fierce – the perfect horse for the King of Asgard.

Loki found Svadilfari _fascinating_. Anytime he was left unattended, anytime his minder turned their back for a single moment, Loki vanished and always ended up in Svadilfari's stall, where the stallion would be examining him thoroughly when the searchers caught up.

Odin constantly worried that Svadilfari would remember his previous behavior and savage Loki, and then Loki's true nature would emerge out of Odin's control, but after Frigga spent one afternoon with boy and horse in the free air and an empty training ring, she assured Odin that Svadilfari would never hurt their son.

Odin wished he could have her surety.

.

Nearly a century after Loki came to Asgard, a strange mare wandered onto the palace grounds. She was a gorgeous beast and seemed quite wild, so Odin ordered the stablehands to capture her. They failed and she vanished, seemingly into thin air.

A week later, Svadilfari disappeared from his stall.

Odin commanded the nearest towns and the surrounding countryside scoured, but Svadilfari wasn't found for nearly a month, until he strode down the shining road to Odin's palace, the mare daintily following.

When Svadilfari's chief groom informed Odin that the mare was with foal, Odin couldn't decide if he was excited or annoyed.

Loki spent as much time as he could in the stable. He seemed to be the only being the mare liked and Svadilfari was again acting oddly: he doted on the mare, like a husband might a heavily pregnant wife. (Indeed, like Odin had Frigga, for Baldr and Thor both.)

"She needs an actual name," Frigga said one evening at dinner.

Baldr was deep in discussion with Beli, an emissary from Vanaheimr and Thor laughing with his friend Fandral, but Loki nodded. Neither Baldr nor Thor had ever shown any interest in the horses beyond caring if mounts were ready whenever they wanted.

"What do you suggest, dearest?" Frigga asked Loki.

Odin, too, turned his attention to his youngest son. Loki was thinking furiously as he cut his roast into bite-sized chunks. He was no longer a toddler, but he still had decades before approaching adolescence. Despite his youth, he was the most knowledgeable person in Asgard when it came to Odin's horses. He was still the only person the mare and Svadilfari tolerated.

"Gullfaxi," Loki announced.

"Who is that, brother?" Baldr asked, turning from his discussion of eligible maidens.

"Gullfaxi is Svadilfari's wife," Loki told him. "And their baby is going to be the best horse in all nine realms."

Baldr grinned at his little brother before smoothing out his expression and saying, "Of course."

Thor just kept talking to Fandral, and pulled Volstagg into the discussion, too.

.

But a year and three months after Svadilfari and Gullfaxi returned, Gullfaxi gave birth to a marvelous colt. The pregnancy was longer than usual, which led Odin to believe the mare was magical. And Svadilfari was not at all acting the way studs usually did. And then when the foal had eight legs, he knew for sure.

"What should we name him, son?" Odin asked Loki, who was watching the colt's first steps with wide, awed eyes.

Gullfaxi and Svadilfari kept all grooms and onlookers away, but they let Loki get close, and when the colt bumped into him, he put a steadying hand on the quivering flank.

"Sleipnir," he said.

.

Gullfaxi vanished the day after Sleipnir was weaned. The only sign she'd ever been there was Loki's tears and how Sleipnir sought for her. Odin ordered Sleipnir broken to halter; he'd be an impressive horse when fully grown, likely larger than his sire, and more magical, to boot.

Loki threw a fit when the training began. He got in the way and made such a nuisance of himself that Odin banished him from the horses entirely.

Of course, Loki snuck in after hours. He was found in Sleipnir's or Svadilfari's stalls regularly, talking to the horses like they understood him.

Maybe they did, but it didn't matter. Svadilfari was the best in the stable, but eventually it would be Sleipnir, and however much fuss Loki caused, that wouldn't change.

"Couldn't you give the horse to him, my husband?" Frigga asked one night, after Loki had turned the head trainer into a slug. Odin found it almost difficult to undo Loki's magic, and Loki was yet a child. He would be a powerful sorcerer when grown, possibly equal to Odin's uncle Mímir, who even Odin hadn't matched.

Where, exactly, Loki's magical proficiency had come from, Odin didn't know. He seemed stronger than both the average jötunn and ás magician, and he knew magics he shouldn't. Odin knew that would be a concern later, but for now, Loki was merely a willful child who had to learn that things changed and nobody always had wishes fulfilled.

"No, wife," Odin replied. "Svadilfari should be granted rest after all the long years he's served me. Sleipnir is a magnificent piece of horseflesh without parallel in all of the realms. He is a horse fit for the King of the Gods."

Frigga gave him a long look; Odin kept his head high, determined to wait her out.

Finally, Frigga said, "You may regret this decision, Odin Allfather." She then ignored him for the rest of the night.

.

When Loki's pet wolf was discovered, Odin wished he'd just given his son the damned horse.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On one of their many adventures, Thor, the Warriors 3, and Sif found a gambling hall in Svartálfaheimr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning
> 
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology
> 
> Disclaimer: not my characters
> 
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; inaccurate Norse mythology; completely BS magical explanations; mentions of violence and attempted fratricide
> 
> Pairings: none
> 
> Rating: PG
> 
> Wordcount: 1335
> 
> Point of view: third
> 
> Prompt: what the heck happened to Loki's kids?

On one of their many adventures, Thor, the Warriors 3, and Sif found a gambling hall in Svartálfaheimr. There were warriors engaged in various battles and the patrons placed bets; Thor thought it great fun, entering himself as a fighter. He won, of course, and took home a purse full of gold.

Loki, of course, found the gold and was curious about its origins: Thor shouldn't have dwarven gold. He followed his brother the next time he went to Svartálfaheimr, without Sif or the Warriors 3 to guard his back.

That time, Thor lost the fight. His opponent was an old fire giant from Múspellsheimr and Loki had to drag Thor home, weaving from his numerous injuries. Loki could've healed him, albeit roughly, but Thor refused: he had lost the battle honorably, and would bear the wounds with pride until they healed naturally.

Loki could've hidden it all from their parents, as well, but he refused. Thor was being an idiot, as usual.

Thor bore the injuries with pride until Mother learned of them, and then she had the court healer take care of them. She also forbade Thor from leaving the palace until he found a measure of common sense. Thor stomped around for a few days, but Loki found himself drawn back to that gambling hall and the pitfighters. He spelled himself invisible and lurked above the pit, watching four bouts in a row. The skill of the fighters was impressive, as was the ferocity, but Loki couldn't figure out why he felt compelled to stay. He didn't like battle, not like his brother.

But then a giant wolf slunk into the pit, growling, just as a vanr was forcefully pushed in at the other side.

Loki straightened, cocking his head – the wolf was under a curse. Loki could see his true form beneath the wolf: identical to the vanr. They were brothers, twins. The wolf, half as large as Fenrir, snarling and snapping his jaw at the vanr warrior, was not only spelled as wolf, but as a rabid wolf. And the crowd bayed for blood, the noise adding to the wolf's madness.

The wolf sought to kill; the vanr merely tried to avoid his teeth.

Finally, the wolf had his brother down, and as his fangs went for the jugular, Loki acted, grabbing both of them and pulling them into an ice cavern in Niflheimr he knew well. The wolf rounded on him, of course, while the vanr rolled over, lunging to his feet.

Loki glared at the wolf and hissed, " _Stop_." The wolf stopped, muscles quivering but unable to take a step. The vanr was gasping for breath, back up against the cave's wall. "What are you?" he asked, eyes going from Loki to his brother.

"Who cursed your brother?" Loki asked instead of answering, studying the spellwork laced over the wolf. The transformation was the first layer. Above it was the bloodlust and madness, woven into every particle. Loki had the strength to remove it, but it would take a great deal of time.

"An enemy of our father's," the vanr said. "As… punishment. And then we were sold to the dwarves, as fighters for their game." He sank down, eyes only on his brother, still subvocally growling and straining against Loki's spell.

"What are your names?" Loki asked, reaching out to trace one thread of the second layer. He tweaked it, causing the wolf to whimper. Removing the curse would also cause the wolf a truly terrible amount of torment, but probably not as much as ripping his brother apart would.

"I'm Narvi," the vanr said. "He is – was Váli."

Fenrir howled outside the cave; Hel stepped out of the frigid air. "What have you here?" she asked, looking from the wolf to Narvi and then to Loki.

"Can I leave them in your care, while I return home for a book?" Loki asked her. "I'll only be gone a moment. I'm just not sure Váli will stay frozen if I leave."

"You are always so interesting, young prince," she laughed. Fenrir padded into the cave silently, greeting Loki before going to sniff Narvi and then Váli, whose snarl echoed off the ice.

Loki quickly traveled to his bedchamber, grabbing the book he needed before immediately returning. Fenrir was sitting beside Hel and mocking Váli; Narvi seemed to be trying to avoid Hel's gaze by keeping his eyes steadily on his brother.

"How long has he been cursed?" Loki asked, kneeling down in front of Váli and focusing on the second layer of the curse. Removing the first would be simpler if Váli had control of his faculties.

"Forever, it seems like," Narvi said quietly, a long-held grief in his voice. "We were held somewhere dark, somewhere cold, for a long time. We were in separate cages, and all he ever did was throw himself at the bars, trying to kill me. I'm not even sure –" Narvi laughed, bitter and sad. "I'm not even sure if our father knew were still alive, at that point. No one ever came for us."

"Who is your father?" Hel asked, one hand gently stroking Fenrir ears.

"Ullr," Narvi breathed. "Ullr of the Vanir."

"Interesting," Loki noted, quite certain that Ullr had both the resources and the strength to rescue his sons from nearly any enemy, should he wish it. That he hadn't did not at all bode well.

"And your father's enemy?" Hel continued, murmuring something to Fenrir as she turned to glance at Narvi.

Fenrir stood and strode out, telling Loki, Be careful as he went. Loki assured him that he would, turning from Váli to flip through his book. Loki was sure he knew the spell necessary, but he wanted to double check before actually attempting anything.

"Kvasir," Narvi said.

"Also of the Vanir," Hel said. "Now, that, too, interesting, is it not, Loki?"

"Very," Loki said, closing the book and looking back at the wolf. He reached for the weakest thread of the spell and began.

.

After Váli again wore his vanr form and had control of himself again, Loki returned home. Hel promised to find a place for the brothers in her court, since they couldn't go to Vanaheimr. She had asked if he would get involved in whatever feud was happening between Ullr and Kvasir, but he saw no reason to.

He'd given Váli back his body and mind, and given Narvi back his brother. That was more than enough, he thought, and Hel regally inclined her head, wishing him well.

The next morning, Loki asked his mother, "What do you know about Ullr's sons?"

Mother said sadly, "They were taken a few centuries ago. Freja is quite sure they were killed, but though Ullr and Njord tore the realm apart, ocean to mountains, they were never found."

Loki pushed his bread around his plate, debating with himself before suggesting offhandedly, "You should tell Freja to mention Kvasir to Njord."

Mother paused in lifting her goblet. "And why is that, Loki?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Just an idea."

After a few moments of silence, Mother asked about his studies. Loki quite enthusiastically explained about a curse he'd found, and the deftness required to break it.

.

Three weeks later, Vanaheimr was shocked when Njord had Kvasir dragged through the streets in chains. The two missing sons of Ullr were returned safely, and Mother gave Loki a proud smile.

Loki never went back to the gambling hall in Svartálfaheimr, though Thor eventually did. And if Loki sometimes went to Vanaheimr just to see a pair of twin brothers, it was simply to talk spells. Curses, in particular, and the removing thereof.

.

(Narvi dreamed of bloody fangs and bloodied fur. Váli dreamed of his brother dead and in pieces. And they both dreamed of dark hair and strong hands and ice, and swore loyalty to the youngest prince of Asgard, should he ever need aid.

Loki made no note of that. The Lady of the Dead did.)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What are the only rules that matter, Van, my son?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; mentions of violence  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 680  
> Point of view: third  
> Note: the first story in the 'verse written with no prompting! Also, this whole 'verse is NOT written chronologically. Please realize that.

_What are the only rules that matter, Van, my son?_

A deep breath. Eyes close, exhale, eyes open –

_What are the only rules that matter?_

Thor is fatally wounded, down, prone on the ground. Gunnar is across the field of battle, keeping enemy reinforcements from coming. The Avengers, Thor's little band of heroes, are all fighting for their lives. Da is – Da is far far away, and Hel, and there is but a moment –

_Van, my son_

Thor cannot be moved. Midgardian medicine will not suffice, nor anything in Asgard. It will take _magick_ to heal him, and if he has already passed into Niflheimr with a mortal wound… Hel would not return him.

Van's magick flares, and he binds Thor's lifeforce tight, not letting of him leave. The spell is beyond forbidden, and Van will be drained in moments, but by the time that happens, all of the enemy will be dead where they stand.

Gunnar realizes what he's doing immediately, and he bounds across the space between them, in his natural shape, larger than any natural Midgardian land animal. _Forgive me_ , Van whispers to him, kneeling by Thor, one hand pressed to his chest, and a protection charm keeping the Avengers and Gunnar away.

 _Don't_ , Gunnar pleads, throwing himself against the spell.

"What are you doing?" Stark demands, the rest joining in when they realize they can't get through.

 _The only rules that matter_

Da is far away, caught up in a war no one else will ever know about. Thor is already too wounded for Hel to heal, and if she says it is his time –

If she says it is time, not even Da will stop it.

 _Brother_ , Van says, resting his forehead on Thor's. _My brother, **live**_.

Thor gasps a breath.

Gunnar howls and howls, frenzied, and Van collapses, his protection spell with him.

.

Everything stops.

 _No_ , Odin murmurs. _Please, not like this._

 _Is this not what you wanted?_ Fyrstr asks quietly. _You refuse us peace. All nine realms feel it. Yggdrasil shudders and the oceans roil. Is this not what you want?_

 _No!_ Odin shouts, turning to face him. _Fix this, please._

 _You will stop your paltry attempts at reclaiming what was never yours, little king_ , Fyrstr orders. _You will give my son peace. We live forever – he could yet decide to visit you, allow you to make amends._

 _Yes!_ Odin says desperately. _Yes, to anything you want. If both Thor and Loki live, I shall stand down in everything_.

Fyrstr studies him, long and hard, and nods.

Everything restarts.

.

Van collapses onto his brother. He can feel himself fading away, healing his brother, and Thor's heart is beating again.

Gunnar shifts as he falls forward, giving himself hands; the Avengers move almost as quickly, pulling Van and Thor apart.

"Van!" he screams as the same time the Avengers all shout, "Thor!"

Thor's eyes open. Van is limp in Gunnar's grip.

 _What are the only rules that matter, Van, my son?_

Gunnar throws back his head and howls for Methos.

And Methos is there. With a thought he quiets everything, eyes focused only on Van. He kneels next to Gunnar, who has Van spread across his lap, and he puts a hand to Van's chest, over his heart, and to his temple. "You will live," he murmurs. "You will grow stronger yet. And, my son, you will fight another day."

"Brother," Thor gasps, pushing his way out of the tangle of Earth's mightiest heroes. "Loki, Van – brother!"

"Peace, Thunderer," Methos says, lightning flowing from him to the truest son he's ever had. "Van will be fine."

Van had never been in danger, the foolish child. And while sacrificing himself was noble – Methos does not care at all about Thor.

 _My liege, until you allow it, Thor will not die again_ , Hel reports, in the far back of his mind, as he stares down at his son, ignoring all else.

 _Good girl_ , he replies, watching Van breathe.

Sound explodes, with Stark's demand of, "What the flying fucking hell is going on?"

Van's eyes open.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da smirked, showing all his teeth. “Come, children. Time to show the bad guys how it’s really done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; a line gleefully stolen from A Nightmare Before Christmas  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; mentions of violence/death  
> Pairings: mostly gen, but a smidge of implied Steve/Tony snuck in   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1525  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: the Avengers suit up, but Van and Methos save the day  
> Note: remember – not in chronological order. This comes before the previous part.

Over a dozen of the Avengers’ greatest foes joined together late in the year and began attempting to take over Europe. All of the European countries’ security forces teamed up in defense, but while any singular villain could’ve been defeated, the group of supervillains overpowered them.

The Avengers were dispatched with the Fantastic Four and X-Men. Thankfully, Captain American noted, most of the battling happened away from heavily populated places, and where it did happen had already been mostly evacuated – at least, in the beginning. But the battle dragged on…

Hawkeye found high ground, Hulk smashed abandoned buildings, Iron Man took to the sky, and Thor, Captain America, and Black Widow performed a ground search. The X-Men were a country away, and the Fantastic Four half a dozen towns over.

No one was discovered alive; Captain America grew steadily angrier with each body, and the final straw was coming across Red Skull, casting aside the broken corpse of a little boy who looked like Bucky, the day he and Steve met, all those lifetimes ago.

Captain America attacked, recklessly and out of control, but he’d left Thor and Black Widow behind, Iron Man was beset by drones, Hawkeye kept shooting Red Skull’s minions, and Hulk was busy with a monster created from an impure form of the serum responsible for Captain America.

So there was no one to help when Red Skull injected Captain America and crowed to the heavens, “Burn from the inside out, hero.”

Captain America collapsed when Red Skull let go. The last thing he heard was Hawkeye shouting, “Captain! Rogers! Steve!”

.

Van and Da had been in Niflheimr visiting Hel, letting Gunnar get his fill of running. He liked his ás form well enough (especially thumbs) but he still preferred his wolf shape. So they made a trip to see Hel every few months, and Van and Gunnar played tag and stalk-and-pounce until they fell together onto the snow, panting and exhausted.

When they returned home, the news was full of the crisis in Europe, all the villains who’d teamed up, and how the Avengers, X-Men, and Fantastic Four seemed to actually be _failing_. 

“It’s a good idea,” Da said before flipping the channel. “A solo villain almost never wins.”

“Yeah,” Van said. At the moment, he wasn’t really concerned.

.

But the situation stretched on. Human armies were deployed. Rebuilding after the conflict would be supremely difficult. 

“Enough,” Da hissed, almost a month later. “This is _my_ world to do with what I will.”

Van hurried to his feet and Gunnar popped his head in. “Battle?” he asked hopefully.

Da smirked, showing all his teeth. “Come, children. Time to show the bad guys how it’s _really_ done.”

.

Captain America collapsed in a heap at Red Skull’s feet. Iron Man zoomed in as quickly as possible, ignoring the drones except for dodging them. Hulk roared, and thunder boomed, and Red Skull laughed as Black Widow edged her way around the debris to stare at Steve.

Red Skull only laughed again when she shot him with a full clip. When Iron Man hit him with his strongest blast. When Hulk tried to swat him and when Thor called down the lightning.

“Why isn’t anything working?” Iron Man demanded. “Fury, do you – ”

“It’s called teamwork, Mr. Stark,” Doc Ock announced, appearing next to Red Skull. “We pooled our gifts. Each of us can do what every one of us can do.”

“Shit,” Hawkeye said.

“I’m tired of hearing about this,” a cold, deep voice drawled, and both heroes and villains turned to see three new faces: Loki, his dad, and a total stranger.

“Who are you?” Mister Sinister demanded, turning his weapon towards the newcomers.

“I’m the who when you call _who’s there?_ ” Loki’s new dad said, smirking. 

Stark choked on a laugh, but he was the only one to react.

“Gunnar, would you like to take them?” Loki’s new dad asked, smirking even wider. 

“Yes,” the stranger growled, and then he was suddenly an enormous wolf, as large as a goddamned city bus, and rushing at the villains.

It was obvious when they tried to teleport out and couldn’t, and everyone but Black Widow – even the Hulk – turned away when the wolf reached them.

“Steve?” Iron Man said, kneeling down next to Captain America’s body. “Steve, buddy?”

He ignored the wolf chowing down, and the screaming abruptly cut off, and when Loki and his new dad strode over.

“Oldest,” Thor said quietly. “Can you do anything about the destruction?”

“I could,” Loki’s new dad replied. “But why should I do for you what you can do for yourselves?”

The wolf nuzzled his bloody face against Loki, licking his chops. Loki scratched at the wolf’s chin.

“Please,” Tony begged, looking up, faceplate gone. “We can’t – there’s something wrong, and he’s dying, please – ” 

“Why?” Loki’s dad asked, glancing from Tony to the rest of the Avengers, to the X-Men and Fantastic Four hurrying over. “What would you choose?” He paused, looking back at Tony. “I could undo the past few months, return Europe to its former glory – _or_ I could return the spark of life to Steve Rogers.” He knelt down, placing a finger under Tony’s chin and lifting his head. Tony grit his teeth, meeting the bastard’s eyes. “I put the choice to you, Man of Iron. Choose wisely.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open. “I – what?” he gasped out, jerking away from the fucker’s touch, leaning over to rest his forehead on Steve’s. “I can’t – ” 

He wanted to say Steve’s name so badly it burned in his throat. “You’d bring back the soldiers and civilians?” he whispered, smoothing Steve’s hair down. “You’d restore the buildings and – and _fix_ everything?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on Steve’s heart. “This man or everyone else, Mr. Stark.”

Hulk roared. Hawkeye bit off a comment about superpowered motherfuckers.

It was Thor who said, “Brother, please.”

The wolf growled. Loki fell to his knees beside Tony and murmured, “What would you give to have him back, Man of Iron?”

“Van,” his dad rumbled.

“Da,” he returned without looking away from Tony.

“Take me instead,” Tony blurted out desperately, and the world went white.

.

Ash did not fix everything, of course. Humans wouldn’t learn if all of the lesson was wiped away. The soldiers stayed dead, but some of the civilians found themselves alive again: the ones who would have survived if not directly killed by some action of the villains.

The child who looked like Bucky Barnes woke up crying. His mother scooped him up and fled.

Tony was astonished to be alive. Then he was furious, because if he lived it must mean that Steve didn’t– 

But beneath him, where he had fallen across Steve’s chest, Steve breathed, gasped, and coughed. “Tony?” he muttered.

“Steve,” Tony said blankly. “Steve!” He wrapped his arms around Steve, laughing in panicked relief. 

Ash glanced at Van and Gunnar with a raised eyebrow. The Avengers and the Fantastic Four and the X-Men stared, children all, confronted by something so different it ripped at the fabric of understanding.

Buildings were still gutted, roads torn up, towns burned. But the fields were restored, and the livestock lived again, and with superpowered beings helping, rebuilding wouldn’t take long at all, and where there is life, there is hope (or so say those who fear dying. Fyrstr knows better).

“Old Man,” Fury said, stepping to the front of SHIELD’s contingent. “Thank you for the help today.”

“No problem,” he replied, nodding to Van and Gunnar. Van glanced at Thor, then touched Gunnar’s jaw and transported them both away.

Under Ash’s gaze, no one made a sound. Most of the ‘hero’ community had long since realized Van was, if not a ‘good guy,’ not a villain either. And there were still splashes of blood where the villains had been.

“Why did you help?” Hawkeye asked, bow held loosely in his grip. Black Widow stood next to him and Dr. Banner at his back, having regained enough control. (Ash might help with that. He hadn’t decided yet.) Iron Man and Thor helped Captain America to his feet, and everyone looked at Ash, caught between terror and awe.

“If anyone will rule this world,” he said, smirking, “it will be me. And if anyone were to destroy it – it will also be me.” He inclined his head to Fury. “Remember, Niko,” he added, in the boy’s first tongue. “And call next time you can’t clean up your own mess.”

Smirking wider at the shocked, horrified looks, Ash left the children reeling.

.

The news reports all said the same thing: the villains wiped each other out. No mention was made of a giant wolf or Thor’s brother or the man who returned life to seven hundred people without blinking. Even those who had been dead didn’t know it.

None of those who knew talked about it.

And if Thor stood in the midst of a summer storm, holding a one-sided conversation about hopes and dreams and wishes, well. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and who’s to say it was one-sided, after all?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m Ashton Piers these days,” he says. “These boys are my little brothers Evan and Gunther.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; mentions of violence/death  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1380  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Amanda and Mac meet up with Methos and his new student- and its odd to see the legend acting so parental- especially when they find out that the 'kid' is older than Amanda.  
> Note: I didn't work in Amanda because all I saw of her character were the Methos episodes and I don't want to get her wrong.

Ever since Methos vanished, Duncan has worried. Joe said he seemed well, and even had a student, a nice kid who Methos clearly loved. But considering that Methos’ last student had been _Byron_ – well, Duncan knows he’s right to worry. Add Byron to the Horsemen… 

Methos is in trouble. But to help him, Duncan needs to _find_ him, and that’s proving to be frustratingly hard. Not to mention that Joe keeps refusing to use his Watcher contacts to aid in the search.

So when Methos and two tag-alongs wander into his current dojo, Duncan is honestly surprised. Especially since he only feels their buzzes _after_ seeing them, almost like an afterthought.

“Hullo, MacLeod,” Methos drawls, smirking that irritating smirk.

“Adam?” he asks, eyes going to the kids. 

Methos shakes his head. “I’m Ashton Piers these days,” he says. “These boys are my little brothers Evan and Gunther.”

“Hi,” one says, lifting his hand in a half-hearted wave. The other simply nods his head.

The two look enough alike to be twins – and enough like Methos to be his biological brothers. They all appear approximately the same age, about twenty-five.

Ach, but immortality confuses even Duncan, sometimes.

“Welcome,” Duncan says. It’s been over a decade and a half since he last saw Methos. Since, near as he can tell, anyone saw Methos. The world has changed since then – there are people with powers being hailed as heroes, who would have been executed for witchcraft in his day. There are villains who cause as much as destruction as a full-scale war, except in hours and days instead of years. There is a _god_ walking around and saving people.

The world is changed. But Methos is, thankfully, the same. He asks about their mutual friends, and a few others he knows Duncan is close to. He listens while the boys explore the dojo, and offers his usual sarcasm and dry comments.

And, finally, when the boys are out of hearing, all the way across the room, Duncan asks quietly, “Two students, Methos? That’s dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Methos says, just as quietly.

“Are you in trouble?” Duncan steps in close, looking firmly into Methos’ eyes. “I can help, if you are.”

Methos smiles. It almost seems sincere. “Still trying to save me, MacLeod? Adam Pierson was a mask. He was weak and foolish. He was an academic, and he would’ve died very young.” The smile drops away. Duncan notices, on the periphery, that the boys have gone still, staring at them from across the room. “I am not Adam Pierson. I dropped the mask when you killed Byron.”

“What?” Duncan asks, turning so that his sword is in easy grip.

Methos explains in a patient, _old_ tone, “Adam Pierson was a mask, MacLeod. I wear masks – that’s why I’m the oldest.”

“We all change identities,” Duncan says, not sure what Methos’ point is. There’s _always_ some lesson the ancient tries to impart.

“You’ve barely changed your identity in four hundred years, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.” Methos laughs, but the darkness is gone from his eyes, and one of his boys pounces on the other, knocking him to the mat.

“I haven’t needed to,” Duncan protests, smiling.

“Oh, MacLeod,” Methos sighs long-sufferingly, clapping him on the shoulder. “So young, yet. You’ll learn one day.”

 _Or you’ll die_ , he doesn’t say, but Duncan hears it loud and clear, and he shudders.

“Da!” one of the boys shouts. They look practically identical, tumbling on the mat. The only difference MacLeod notices is that the one with gold eyes has slightly darker skin and is a bit bulkier. The other, the one who calls “Da!” again, has bright green eyes.

They’re both grinning when Methos turns to look at them. “Van,” he says. “You can’t defeat the ruffian yourself?”

“Of course he can’t,” the other, Gunther, says with a laugh.

“Tsk, tsk,” Methos scolds, shaking his head. “I’m so disappointed.”

Evan shoves his brother off and performs a series of moves so fast even Duncan – known to both Watchers and immortals as one of the best, if not _the_ best, warriors in the world – cannot follow.

But Gunther goes down and lays there for a moment before bouncing up. 

“Well done,” Methos says. “There’s a kitchen that way.” He tilts his head to the back entrance of the dojo. “Find something to eat; try not to make a mess.” He looks at Duncan. “Still mi casa es su casa si?” he asks rhetorically.

Duncan nods anyway, watching the boys go.

Something is wrong here. Even an infant who had trained for thirty years as a mortal before his first death should not execute perfect moves too quickly for Duncan to follow. Not even Methos fought that well.

 _Adam Pierson was a mask_. Duncan looks at Methos, who is smiling a shark smile. “Understand yet?” Methos asks. _Adam Pierson as Methos_ , Duncan thinks, _was a mask_.

“Who are you with no mask?” Duncan whispers.

Methos shrugs. He’s still smiling when he walks toward the kitchen. Duncan, slightly nervous now, follows.

Gunther is sitting on the counter eating potato chips while Evan rifles through the fridge. They both look over when Methos enters and Gunther tosses him another bag of chips.

“Are you still worried about me, my friend?” Methos asks, catching the bottle of juice Evan throws his way.

“Yes,” Duncan answers, keeping his peace while Evan pulls his pre-made sandwich out.

“Su casa es mi casa,” Methos murmurs, amused.

“Si,” Duncan agrees. Richie’d had worse manners than ‘borrowing’ food, and to see Methos acting so parental is worth the minor annoyance.

Evan hops up next to Gunther and splits the sandwich. Beyond their looks, suggesting they came from the same region, this is what convinces Duncan they at least grew up together. Of course, they cannot biologically be brothers, but neither were Methos and the Horsemen, and they all called each other _brother_.

“Where did you find them, _Ashton_?” Duncan asks, deciding that this time he’ll keep the true identity of his friend secret. He failed previously, too excited to contain himself, and too many people learned. But only Joe, Amanda, Cassandra, and Duncan know Methos’ face now.

“I found Evan after a disagreement with his family,” Ashton says. “We fetched Gunther a bit later.” He grins, sharp and bright. “We resolved the family thing.”

“He calls you _Da_ ,” Duncan notes, trying to fish as subtly as possible. 

He fails, judging by the look Ashton gives him. “I adopted him,” Ashton explains. “Our identities at the moment are brothers, I and the young twins – but I _am_ Van’s father.”

“Not Gunther’s?” Duncan can’t help but ask.

“No,” Ashton replies, while the boys slip down from the counter. “I’m not Gunther’s da.”

Duncan is pretty sure that makes no sense, but the boys wander over and Gunther demands a spar.

“With me or MacLeod?” Ashton demands in reply.

“MacLeod,” he clarifies. “I’ve seen you fight, old dog.”

“You up for it?” Ashton grins at him.

“Of course,” Duncan answers.

Gunther leads the way back to the mat and excitedly bounces on his toes, eyes on Duncan. “Those clothes will be fine?” Duncan asks. Gunther’s wearing jeans; Duncan’s just glad he kicked off his boots earlier, when he tussled with his brother.

“Yeah,” Gunther grunts. “Stop stalling.”

Duncan sighs at the impatience of youth and steps onto the mat.

Gunther’s style has no training Duncan can discern. The boy is inhumanly fast and strong, but it’s raw power without precision and Duncan finally gets him down. Gunther snarls at him, sounding more like an animal than a man, and Evan’s voice whips out, a sharp command in his brother’s name – except he pronounces it _Gunnar_. 

“Well?” Ashton asks with a raised eyebrow.

Duncan heaves himself up and offers Gunther an ignored hand. “He has potential,” Duncan says, watching Gunther stalk over to his brother. “But he’ll be difficult to train.” Duncan focuses on Ashton. “How old are they?”

Evan has the technical skill; Duncan saw that earlier. And Gunther is a fierce warrior. Few could withstand the barrage long enough to beat him.

“Oh,” Ashton says, and there’s laughter in his voice. “They’re quite young, my boys.” He smirks, looking back at them. “Quite young indeed.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin tries to make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for Avengers movieverse; mentions of a suicide attempt   
> Pairings: none   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 545  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, How does one built a bridge over thousands of years anguish and pride?

"Will you help me, Frigga?" he asks softly, eyes deferentially at her feet. He wants to call her _my love, my queen, my wife, my life_ \- but her gaze has been cold these long months since Loki’s fall. For centuries she cautioned him in his treatment of their youngest son, their little prankster, the greatest magician in Asgard. For centuries she warned him.

For centuries, he refused her counsel, and now Loki is gone. 

“Will you listen now, OdinKing?” she asks in reply, and all the ice of Niflheimr is on the words. “Will you heed me advice in all things?” 

“Yes,” he says simply, and only meets her eyes when she gently touches his chin with the tip of one finger. 

“Husband,” she tells him, “you have a thousand years of mistakes to rectify. Rejoice that you have the chance at all.” 

“I do,” he murmurs, and when she turns to stride from the balcony, he follows.

.

“You don’t have to do this,” Gunnar snarls, watching Van pace from one side of the room to the other. “You don’t owe him anything. I could – I should tear out his throat.” 

“No, wolf,” Ash commands. “Should anyone deal with the little king, it will be me.” Gunnar glares at him, but Ash simply raises an eyebrow. Gunnar looks away. 

“He just wants to listen,” Van says, turning to face Ash. “Right? Just… listen. To what I have to say.”

“Yes, my boy,” Ash assures him. “He will listen. He will explain. And then he will leave.” 

Van pauses, just staring into Ash’s eyes. It’s all the boy wants. All he’s ever wanted, really. The AllFather to _hear_ him, and then to _explain_ himself. “Da,” Van whispers. “What if – ”

Ash pulls him in for a tight hug and the lightning flares along Van’s veins. “Do you feel that?” he asks, murmuring the words into Van’s ear. “You are mine, from now unto forever. No little king can change that. Whatever he says, whatever he doesn’t say, however much he fails – I will not cast you away. I will not abandon you. You are _mine_ , from your magic to your laughter to your bones. And if you tell me, now, to send him away, I will obliterate him from existence.” 

Van’s breath catches and his hands clutch Ash’s shirt. Gunnar is carefully motionless, crouched in the chair, eyes on Ash.

“I will speak to him,” Van says, gently pulling away Ash’s arms. “He will listen. And he will tell me what he was thinking.” 

“As you wish,” Ash murmurs, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

.

Odin does not for a moment believe he and the child are left alone. 

But Loki is on one side of the table, fingers laced together, and eyes locked on Odin. 

“Will you listen?” he asks softly. 

“Yes,” Odin replies, just as softly. 

Loki nods resolutely. “Say my name,” he orders, and he sounds so strong – so powerful. 

Odin lowers his gaze to the table. “Van,” he whispers. Loki fell. Loki is gone. Odin’s prankster, Sleipnir’s first rider, Thor’s shadow… Loki is gone.

Only Van remains. And Odin will listen as Van details every last grief Loki had when he was Odin’s son.

It’s the least he owes Loki.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor was easygoing and trustworthy, for all his childish temper. Odin could trust him to obey orders. 
> 
> Loki… oh, Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Highlander/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: child favoritism   
> Pairings: mentions of het  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 495  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Thor, Odin + Loki, We love you both equally.

"Do you know the difference between a _da_ and a _father_?" Odin asks Frigga. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped down, and she stands in the middle of the room, having just walked in, seen his position, and paused. 

"A _da_ ," she says softly, after a minute, "will do whatever it takes. A _father_ will take the easy road and hope for the best."

Odin flinches. He doesn't disagree.

.

Odin had many plans for Loki. He discarded them all and finally decided to simply raise the boy as though he'd always been theirs, been born from Frigga. Frigga doted on him, because she knew he was the last child she'd ever have (unless she began taking in strays, which was always possible). 

Baldr ran away to Vanaheimr and wed a serving-girl. Thor made lifelong friends of fellow warriors and threw himself into training. 

Loki took to magic so easily it was frightening. Odin had been the master (second only to Frigga, though very few still living knew that) for so long that he didn’t take proper notice of Loki’s skills until the boy was grown. 

Thor was so much easier than Loki. Baldr, for all his stubbornness and pride, was easier than Loki. Thor brawled in Svartálfaheimr, but Loki brought home an alfwolf and tried to hide it under his bed. The most nerve-wracking part was how _close_ he came. Thor was easygoing and trustworthy, for all his childish temper. Odin could trust him to obey orders. 

Loki… oh, Loki. He was cunning. He was clever. He could be cruel – but if Odin were being honest, and he must be, now, after everything… Loki did not become cruel until after the wolf was taken. Until Odin began teaching Thor in earnest how to be king, letting time with Loki slip away. Until Loki far outstripped his tutors and murmurs filled the air about the silver-tongued prince who lied.

Odin loves his sons. All three of them: those of his blood, and the one he stole from an icy battlefield. He had his chance, he knows that now. Resting his head in his hands, listening to Frigga walk away, he knows he had his chance. Odin loves his sons, but Thor has always been golden. Baldr was too gentle for Odin’s taste, and Loki… Loki was far too much like him. Loki, who fell and Odin never searched. 

Loki, who will never call Odin _Father_ again.

.

“Can you see him?” Odin asks Heimdallr. 

“Never,” Heimdallr answers.

Odin nods, looking out onto the Bifrost. No, the Oldest would not let Odin see Lo - _Van_ without Van first giving permission. 

“What about Baldr?” Odin murmurs. He has not visited his firstborn in centuries. But he has lost one son. Baldr is still in reach. 

“Baldr walks along the shore with Nanna and their youngest children,” Heimdallr says. 

Yes. Loki is gone forever, and it’s time Odin made amends with Baldr. 

He commands, “Open the Bifrost.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s something odd about Ashton’s boys,” Mac says after the evening rush settles down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic for Highlander; mentions of violence/death  
> Pairings: none   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 575  
> Point of view: third

“There’s something odd about Ashton’s boys,” Mac says after the evening rush settles down.

“Boys?” Joe parrots after he catches up and realizes who Mac must mean. “He only had one, last I saw.”

“He has two now,” Mac tells him. “His little brothers, Evan and Gunther. Except, Evan is also Van and his son, and Gunther is Gunnar, and Van’s brother, but not Ashton’s son.” Mac sips his scotch, studying the patrons of the bar, while Joe tries to untangle that. He serves a few regulars and when he turns back to Mac, Mac continues, “Evan is a gifted warrior. He’s been exceedingly well trained. And Gunther – I saw the beginning of some kind of style, I think, but he prefers overwhelming by sheer strength, which he has in abundance.”

“Evan seemed like a good kid,” Joe says. “The Old Man really cares about him, too.”

Mac nods, staring down into his glass. “He told me that Adam Pierson was a mask he dropped when I killed Byron,” Mac says quietly.

“Well, yeah,” Joe replies. “Adam was always an act.” He laughs. “Even after I knew it, though, he still fooled me most of the time.”

“But how – ” Mac cuts himself off as another patron comes up. He continues when the man leaves, with, “But how is his act different from the rest of us?” He stares across the bar at Joe with those big brown eyes, and Joe truly wonders, just for a moment, how in the hell Mac made this long in the game.

“Mac,” he explains, slowly and carefully, “you haven’t changed anything but your profession in four hundred years. The Old Man changes his whole persona. The names are usually variations of each other, as far as I’ve been able to tell, but they’re all also really common.” He shrugs. “Ashton is a completely different man than Adam Pierson, or Adam Pierson as the Old Man.”

Ashton is a father. And a good one, from what Joe saw. Adam Pierson had been an academic, and so young. He would’ve blown away in a strong wind. And then, Adam Pierson as Methos had been a smart ass, but still not all that frightening. Not as frightening as five thousand years _should’ve_ been, anyway.

Joe knows for a fact that he has never met the _real_ Methos. He also knows that he’ll never hear Methos’ real name.

He’s okay with that. There are some things humans just aren’t ready for.

But Mac – Mac is a good man. Maybe the best Joe’s ever met. And as long as Mac remains one of Methos’ favorites, he’ll last a long time. 

“Tell me more about this other kid,” Joe says. Van was good, quiet and shy. If Methos had trained him (which, of course, Methos had) he’d be a damned fine warrior. You don’t live to be the oldest only by running away all the time. Eventually, you had to fight it out.

“Gunther wanted to spar with me,” Mac says after draining his glass. “He’s good, Joe. With the skill level he and Evan are already at… they can’t be new.” 

Joe pauses, tapping his fingers on the bar. “Can’t be new?” he repeats.

Mac shakes his head. “That’s why there’s somethin’ odd about them,” he says. 

Joe refills his glass. “Start at the beginning, Mac,” he orders. Then, “Wait. Let’s take this to the back.” 

Nodding, Mac stands and follows him.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin does not send warning before the Bifrost opens and deposits him in the midst of Vanaheimr’s capitol. He tells Njord that he is not here as king or All-Father, and then he goes to Baldr’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: no one mentioned here is mine  
> Warnings: mentions of child favoritism and a suicide attempt; intentionally wrong Norse mythology; possibly a too-fluffy reconciliation   
> Pairings: Baldr/Nanna, Odin/Frigga  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1930  
> Point of view: third  
> Note: according to Wikipedia, Baldr and Nanna only had one kid. I pulled a few other Norse deities and declared them to be Baldr and Nanna’s, too.

Baldr has always loved his brothers. He has never thought of Loki as anything but a little brother, an annoyance, a pest. That is the way of older brothers. He noticed Loki’s attempts to gain attention, but he had other things on his mind – and then he met Nanna and had no reason to return to Asgard and an eventual throne he had never wanted.

That the All-Father disinherited him for it… well, Baldr had expected nothing less. That Mother refused to let it stand, he was glad. 

Nanna gives him many fine children, and Baldr lets them know they are loved, and that, whatever they choose to do with their abilities and their lives, he will love them still. 

.

Loki had been a strange child. Baldr remembers Odin bringing him home – Baldr had been four hundred and starting his training in earnest. He had no time to coddle the infant Odin announced as his youngest child. 

But Thor was fascinated with their younger brother. Thor adored him. Thor followed around whoever was carrying the child and babbled at them. 

And if Baldr was sometimes jealous of the bond that grew between them, the younger sons of Asgard… it was unimportant. He had his duties, and then he had Nanna, and then he had children.

And then Thor was banished and Loki fell.

.

Thor had the Warriors 3 and Sif, and a court full of people who played to his pride. Loki had Sleipnir, and then Fenrir. After Fenrir was returned to Ālfheimr, Baldr often found Loki playing with his hounds (the swiftest and cleverest in all of Asgard). Loki spoke to them like they understood, like they were friends. Like he had treated his wolf. Baldr let him, though it set back the training of the pups.

Baldr never spoke to Loki of it. After Loki’s fall, holding his youngest child Forseti close and listening to his son’s heartbeat, he thinks maybe he should have.

.

Baldr argues with himself for days before deciding not to return to Asgard, not to bring his children to his once-home for the celebration of Loki’s life. 

Odin sends no word either way, and Baldr keeps his children close. He does not mention Loki to anyone, and ignores everyone who asks – except his children.

When Fosite, the firstborn, so very proud and exacting, asks Baldr about the mischievous uncle he had never met – Baldr tells them all to gather ‘round, four sons and three daughters, with their mother’s eyes and their mother’s smile: Fosite, Fulla, the twins Hermódr and Hodr, Ēostre, Hrede, and young Forseti.

Loki had been so daring, so clever, and Baldr tells them everything he remembers.

.

And then, of course, comes the slow trickle of knowledge across the realms: Loki, son of Odin, lives. Loki, son of Odin, has played a brilliant trick, and Baldr exhales a sigh of relief.

He has never understood Loki, but he is so very glad that Loki still lives.

.

Odin does not send warning before the Bifrost opens and deposits him in the midst of Vanaheimr’s capitol. He tells Njord that he is not here as king or All-Father, and then he goes to Baldr’s house.

“Hello, Baldr,” Odin says, head raised high, voice soft. “I have come because it is past time.” 

The children are with tutors or masters. Nanna is with Freja. 

Baldr steps back and lets Odin in, wishing he had gone to the training yard with Hermódr and Hodr. He’s wished for a lot of things in his life. 

“All-Father,” Baldr says quietly. 

Odin closes his eye, looking old and tired. Older than Baldr remembers him being – which, of course, makes sense. He has not been home in – not been to Asgard in nearly five hundred years. Not seen his brothers since… oh, it must have been just after Ēostre’s birth when Mother and Loki visited, and Thor – after that nasty business with Sif’s hair, when he wanted to know how to deal with Loki.

Baldr had laughed at him. If Thor was too blind to see Loki’s jealousy at being cast aside, it was not up to Baldr to open his eyes. 

He would give very different advice, now, having dealt with children for four hundred and a half years. Very different advice. 

“Baldr,” Odin whispers, sounding even older than he looks. So tired. “I must apologize. I acted in anger, and I acted in pain.” 

“I acted of love,” Baldr says, because though he knows he, too, has much to apologize for, he will never apologize for Nanna. 

“Yes,” Odin agrees. “Your mother has spoken well of Nanna. She has praised your children, their strength and cleverness. Seven, I hear.” 

Baldr stares at him, because this is not the eloquent All-Father, King of Asgard, (third) most powerful sorcerer or greatest warrior in Nine Realms. 

Odin meets his gaze before looking away. 

“I am not here as a king,” Odin tells him, head bowed low. “I am here as a man who made hasty and foolhardy choices. I am here as a father who wishes to finally know what I have done that is so wrong. I am here as a grandfather who has grandchildren he has never met.” He hesitates; Baldr waits, hands clasped so they won’t fidget, and Odin finishes, “I am here because I have learned how it feels to think a child dead. To believe that I failed so greatly it resulted in a child choosing to die.” Odin wipes at his face, and Baldr chokes back a cry. “I am here to see you, Baldr, to mend things between us because I love you. You were the first son I ever held. You were the first son I ever saw.” He smiles, glancing at Baldr again, meeting his gaze. “You were the first child that was mine. I have missed you.”

“Father,” Baldr says. “I… I have missed you.” 

The scorned, cast away, proud youth he had once been wants to make Odin grovel. The father in him wants only to embrace Odin and wholeheartedly welcome him back into Baldr’s life. The onetime heir of Asgard wants to bow and promise to never again disappoint his king. And the son… the son wants to throw a temper-tantrum, to demand to know what he could have done that was so horrible, to shout and scream, to fall into his father’s arms and finally feel safe again.

He settles for something in the middle and leads Odin to his table, where he bids Odin to sit and pours him a mug of mead. 

“I have seven children,” he tells his father, settling across from him with his own mead. “And I will introduce them to you when they come home. But first – please, I must know. How are my brothers?” 

Odin’s smile is sad and weary. “They both live,” he says. “And they – I had thought Loki might decide to become Thor’s nemesis, but that fear has been proven incorrect.” He laughs, sharp and bitter. “Violently proven incorrect.” He sips his mead. “What do you remember of the Oldest?” he asks. 

Baldr shrugs. “A legend Mother told me so that I’d sleep.” 

Odin shakes his head. “The Oldest is very real,” he says. “And he has taken custody of Loki from me, renamed him Van, and been a much better father than ever I was.” 

Baldr has no response to that. Instead, he tells his father of his life up to now, of how he met Nanna, how he courted her, how Freja welcomed him to Vanaheimr. 

Fulla is the first home, and she blows in like a storm, complaining about her arms’ tutor’s unreasonableness. But when she notices the All-Father sitting at her dinner table… oh, her look of shock is wonderful to behold. 

“Daughter,” Baldr says gently, “this is my father, Odin. Father, this is my eldest daughter, Fulla.” 

“Hello… hello, Grandfather,” she says hesitantly, before standing up straight and lifting her head, pulling on a cloak of surety and strength. “Be welcome and well-met.” 

Odin smiles at her. “Granddaughter,” he says. 

“Fulla,” Baldr asks, standing and touching her arm. “Please, go fetch your siblings and mother. I think… it is past time for the family to meet my father.”

“Of course,” she says, smiling brilliantly and standing on her toes to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” She ducks her head towards Odin. “Grandfather.” She’s gone in a swish of her skirts, quick as lightning. 

“Fulla has decided to become a warrior,” Baldr tells Odin. “She dresses like the most ridiculous courtier imaginable whenever she’s not training. It frustrates both her teacher and her mother.”

To be honest, Fulla reminds him of Loki, sometimes. She has his taste for mischief. The difference, he’s found, is that the vanir take to her sense of humor more than the aesir ever did Loki’s. 

“She’s lovely,” Odin says, hands wrapped around his mug. “I am… it gladdens my heart to see you so happy, my son.” 

Baldr smiles, something inside him settling after half a millennium. “It gladdens my heart,” he says softly, “to see you again.”

Baldr knows he will never be a king. He has never wanted to be. He is a scholar at heart, a historian. He is counselor to Njord, King of Vanaheimr. He is a father and a husband – a son and a brother. He doesn’t want to rule anyone or anything. 

He could have stood down without running away, but the father he ran from would never have accepted a prince wedding a handmaiden. 

“How is Mother?” he asks after a moment. 

“She will be content again,” Odin says, “because I have come here to see you.” 

Baldr nods. “We may – I’m sure Nanna would love to see where I grew up.” He grins. “And your halls have long been silent, I’m sure, in want of boys running through them.” Hermódr and Hodr had not been as drawn to pranks as Thor and Loki, but only because both of them lacked the patience. When Hrede planned things, though… 

“I will welcome your children, Baldr.” There is nothing of the king in Odin at that moment. He is only a very old man, and a grieving father whose heart has finally begun to heal. 

“I shall start planning with Nanna tonight,” Baldr promises. 

.

Baldr remembers well the night he met Loki. Father ended the war, casting Laufey King low, and he brought home both a weapon and a son. 

Father and Mother named the infant _Loki_ and called him Baldr’s youngest brother. 

Thor had still been too young to realize that Mother had never carried Loki, nor bore him. 

And Baldr never cared. What was one more brother? He was busy training with Tyr, learning to be both a king and a warrior, and what did it matter if he wanted neither? If he preferred time in the library, reading of ancient history and of magicks he had not the inborn skill to cast? Baldr could do small things, but he was much better with words than magic, and he could command men, though he had no taste for it.

Loki was his brother. And maybe he’d never known Loki as well as he might have liked, looking back. But he had the chance, now.

Father is sitting at his table, waiting for Nanna and the children to come home, and Baldr makes an oath: he will visit his brothers, will come to know the men they are, and he will not let five hundred years pass with no word again.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baldr will never tell Heimdallr, but he greatly prefers Vanaheimr’s method of interstellar travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: Baldr/Nanna   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 850  
> Point of view: third any, any/any, Wrap me in a bolt of lightning / Send me on my way still smiling

"Go on, then," Nanna tells him, giving him a gentle shove. "Njord will be fine without you; Skadi and Freja have it all in hand."

"And the children?" he asks, hesitating at the door.

His beloved wife rolls her eyes. “They will probably not even notice your absence, Baldr. Go. You’ll not be happy until you see your brothers.”

He nods resolutely and goes.

.

“I wish you luck,” his king tells him as they walk to the transportation chamber. Asgard has the Bifrost; Vanaheimr’s is different, and perhaps not as strong, but it has always served well. 

“Thank you,” Baldr replies. “I’m sure all will be well in my absence.”

Njord laughs, slapping him on the shoulder. “As if the women would let things go poorly. They’re determined to bring your brother back here, you know.” 

Baldr shakes his head, smiling. “My youngest brother has been adopted, or so Odin told me. But I look forward to seeing him again. He was but a child when I left, and not much older when Mother visited last.”

“Well, at least bring him back for a quick look,” Njord says. “Skadi remembers him fondly.” He waves his hand, activating the spells on the transporter and Baldr steps into the ring. 

“I shall return soon,” Baldr promises, and Njord nods, murmuring the final piece of the spell.

.

Baldr will never tell Heimdallr, but he greatly prefers Vanaheimr’s method of interstellar travel.

.

Thor is easy to find; all of Midgard knows his location. Baldr dresses like a Midgardian and goes to Stark Tower, where he inquires at the front desk how to get in touch with the Avengers. 

A bubbly young Midgardian leads him to an audience chamber, where she bids him sit with a bottled water and asks what his trouble is. 

She has a way with words reminiscent of Ēostre’s and Baldr wastes fifteen minutes just playing, leading her in circles before she catches on.

“Whoa, buddy,” she finally bursts out. “Look, you wanna talk to the Avengers? Then _I_ need to know why. Capice?” 

Baldr smiles at her. “Of course, Ms. Lewis,” he replies. “Let the God of Thunder knows his older brother requests an audience.” 

The young Midgardian blinks at him. “Yeah, sure,” she says and backs out, one of her hands in her pocket, where he presumes she keeps a weapon. 

Another ten minutes pass. Baldr meditates, but keeps all his senses tuned, ready for if the Midgardian ‘peacekeeping’ force decides to intercede in his family visit. 

Instead, a woman walks in. “Who are you, and what do you want with Thor?” she asks, standing at ease, a lovely smile on her face. Her red hair catches the light, reminding him of Nanna’s, and he does not underestimate her. 

Baldr tilts his head to the side, listening well – Thor is somewhere above his head, arguing. Baldr sighs because some things never change. “If you wanted to keep him from meeting me,” Baldr tells her, “you should not have let him hear the message. Ever has he acted before he thought.” 

The woman frowns. “We’d just like to know if you’re friendly or not, sir,” she says pleasantly, wiping her annoyance away. 

Masterfully done, really, except Baldr knew Loki when he was young.

Baldr is not as good a warrior as Thor because his heart has never been in it. He’s not as good a magician as Loki because he has not the skill or strength. But his brother is a few floors up, and it’s been nearly half a millennium since he saw the brat, and he believed Loki dead for a few months. 

“I’ll be seeing my brother now,” Baldr says, giving her the same blandly pleasant smile, and then he walks between worlds for a moment, stepping out just in time to hear Thor yell, “It is none of your concern!” at a screen where a one-eyed man glares at him.

“Thor!” Baldr reprimands with a smile. “Is that becoming of a Prince of Asgard?”

“Baldr!” Thor shouts, spinning in place, beaming at him. “Oh, brother, I’ve missed you!” He hurries across the room and grabs Baldr in a strong hug. 

“Do you know where Loki is?” Baldr asks as they separate. “It has been much too long since I saw either of you.” 

Thor nods enthusiastically. “We must catch up, the three of us,” Thor agrees. “You have missed much, Baldr, off telling Njord what to do.”

“I don’t tell him what to do,” Baldr laughs. “I merely offer my opinion.” 

Thor scoffs. “Come, let me introduce you to my friends, the mighty Avengers. Then, I will take you to Van.” He pauses, leaning in, one hand on Baldr’s shoulder. “Our brother is not Loki anymore, Baldr,” he says firmly, quietly, sadly. “He is Van now. Much… much has changed since he fell.” 

Baldr nods. “I understand, Brother,” he says.

Thor looks long into his eyes before nodding as well and stepping away, only to swing an arm around Baldr’s shoulders and boom, “My friends! My brother has come to visit!” 

Baldr smiles. Some things never change.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being Methos was like a vacation. He concerned himself with a tiny population on a small rock, and it was good. For three thousand years, it was good. 
> 
> And then a boy fell from a bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Norse mythology/Avengers movieverse/Highlander  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU for all fandoms; mentions of violence, character death  
> Pairings: none (mentions of Kronos/Methos)  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 840  
> Point of view: third  
> Note: ... I think an actual plot is trying to creep up on me.

Fyrstr has had many brothers over the megannums. And sisters, and children, and nieces and nephews. He’s had lovers, wives, husbands, bondmates. Perhaps even a soulmate or two, though he could spend years arguing that he came to be before souls. 

Kronos had been the first being in a long time that Fyrstr cared about. For Kronos, he became Methos, father and brother and teacher and lover. And when the child outgrew him, Methos let him go, but he found being lighting-bound fascinating, so he stayed and played on Midgard, again called the Oldest, as his legend trickled down. 

Being Methos was like a vacation. He concerned himself with a tiny population on a small rock, and it was good. For three thousand years, it was good. 

And then a boy fell from a bridge. 

.

For a very long time, Fyrstr had been the caretaker of his family. Of the old gods, the first gods, the great gods – the worldmakers, galaxyshakers, destroyers and creators, Those Who Were. Myths and legends to the myths and legends. 

Fyrstr had been the first. The Oldest. Not even he, though, could tell of what came before. But he blinked awake, resting in the cosmos, and he was lonely. So he created. Wove and sang into being a pantheon of those who were great. And it is not that he made them less than him – it is simply that they did not endure. Could not, perhaps. Maybe there is an upper age limit that should not be passed, and he is wrong for going past it.

It matters little. Fyrstr had been the first. He has seen the end, and knows he will be the last. 

.

( _World-killer_ , Odin All-Father hissed, once upon a time.

Blood soaked into the dirt. Lightning flashed, high in the sky. An army fell to its knees in terror, and a legend laughed, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut with a brother’s grief. 

Odin still does not know why he and his warriors were spared that day.)

.

Loki, son of Laufey and Fárbauti, son of Frigga and Odin, brother of Býleistr and Helblindi, brother of Baldr and Thor. 

Van, son of Ash, brother of Gunnar, brother of Baldr and Thor.

Ex-prince of two realms, heir of the cosmos. 

Loki Laufeyson. Loki Odinson.

Evan Piers. 

Jötnar are gifted mages, when not stuck on a frozen rock. Few were ever as gifted as Frigga, but she had been trained by Fyrstr in one of his guises. Few were Odin’s equal – but he sacrificed a part of him to learn the craft. Aesir, too, have their power, though most don’t try to learn. 

Books languished, unread for millennia, before Odin came home with a jötunn infant. 

No jötunn or ás had ever been so gifted as Loki. A few of Odin’s court wondered why, though none ever asked.

Fyrstr knew. Like recognizes like, even separated by a billion lifetimes.

.

The child was crumpled on the ground, having fallen from one realm to another. He should not have survived.

Would not have, if he were but a simple jötunn or ás. 

The ease with which Van picks up the twists of magick is breathtaking. The surety. He knows that he can do it, and so he does. He soaks up Ash’s praise, and grows ever stronger, ever surer, brilliant in a way no one has been since the Those Who Were. 

He is more than a jötunn raised as an ás prince. It is not surprising, though, that Odin didn’t realize what he had, in the shadows of his golden prince. Even Hel, after all, hadn’t truly recognized what lay within Loki Odinson. 

.

Amongst the nine realms, he is known as the Oldest, and by a thousand other names only speculation connects to him. On Midgard, he is immortalized as Death of the Horsemen. 

Kronos, Silas, Caspian, Methos. Brothers. Pestilence, War, Famine, Death. Monsters and murderers. 

World-killer. Realm-shaker. Star-unmaker. 

Kronos had led them, Methos made the plans, Silas enforced their commands, and Caspian terrorized everything in their path. 

Kronos had been his son, his student, his brother, his lover, his – king is not the right word. Master, maybe. Oh, he had loved that boy. 

But Kronos could not change. And that cost him his life. 

Watching Van with Gunnar, with Thor… Ash does worry, a bit. And wonder.

He does not peek into the future. Instead, he hopes.

Because, of everyone in his long life, he has loved Ymir the most, and Van is such a very close second. He may inch past, one of these days.

And right now, Van and Gunnar both wear wolf-skins and race around the backyard, and Van’s aesir brothers are on their way, and Death has never been further from him. 

.

(Frigga peers into the future and weaves a shroud.

Ragnarök would always be. But after every ending, there is a beginning, and Ragnarök has come before.

Her old teacher smiles at her, and from a distant star, Death’s would-be lover turns his head toward Earth.)


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baldr nods respectfully. “Odin All-Father told me we owe you a debt.” 
> 
> Ash smirks toothily. “Odin All-Father owes me many debts. You owe me none.” _Yet_ hangs on the air, sharp and cold, and Baldr believes every single story his mother told him about the Oldest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning  
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: angsty introspection? regret?  
> Pairings: Baldr/Nanna, Frigga/Odin  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1165  
> Point of view: third

After Thor has introduced all of his companions and guided Baldr around Stark Tower, showing off all the Midgardian might, they go for a walk. Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow, wants to protest; Baldr can see it in the twist of her lips, the set of her shoulders. But she glances at Thor and holds her tongue, and Baldr smiles at her as they leave. 

Baldr looks like every other man on the street; Thor looks like Thor. Baldr weaves a small magic to make them less noticeable and Thor chuckles. Baldr shrugs. 

“Tell me about Nanna,” Thor says. “And your children! I am an uncle twice more, yes? Oh, but I should have visited you more, brother.” 

“I could have visited you,” Baldr protests.

Thor shakes his head. “You were disinherited, Baldr. Father would not have permitted your return.” 

Baldr cannot deny that. Instead, he says, “Father came to see me a few days ago. We have not mended everything – seven hundred years is a long time for quarrel. But we are on the right path.”

“That is good,” Thor says, pulling him in for a backslap. “I am so glad all our family quarrels are on the mend!”

Seven hundred years is a long time, Baldr thinks. It is long enough for an arrogant brat always looking for insult to grow into a strong warrior and a good man. It is long enough for a clever child always looking for attention to grow into a man on the path to madness – to choose death over living with lies for a moment longer.

Baldr interrupts Thor’s ramble about his Midgardian companions to ask, almost desperately, “Where is our younger brother?” 

Loki, Van – whoever he is. Baldr cannot go a moment longer without seeing him. Loki had been a quiet child. Loki had been such a clever child. How easily he could have been lost for good, in rage and madness. And Baldr, wrapped up in his life on Vanaheimr, might not have known until it was too late.

Something twists in the air behind them, but Thor does not react to it, except to smile. “He is here, Baldr,” Thor says, placing a hand on Baldr’s shoulder and again guiding him around. Baldr lets himself be turned and studies the small house that had not previously been there, and the man on the porch. 

“Hail, Baldr,” the man says. “I’m Ash.” 

Baldr nods respectfully. “Odin All-Father told me we owe you a debt.” 

Ash smirks toothily. “Odin All-Father owes me many debts. You owe me none.” _Yet_ hangs on the air, sharp and cold, and Baldr believes every single story his mother told him about the Oldest.

“Van!” Ash calls. “You have visitors.” He keeps his gaze on Baldr, and Baldr does not shudder at the weight of it.

Loki had been an inquisitive clever child who delighted in being the center of attention. Baldr never paid him much mind, wrapped up in learning everything he could from his father, determined to be the best in all things. Even when Loki’s magic flared up, first when Father took Sleipnir and banned Loki from the barn, and then whenever Thor spent more time with his friends instead of his younger brother, and then, oh, the worst of all when Father took Loki’s wolf away. 

Baldr should have done something. Said something. Spent time with the brilliant child who was his youngest brother. Explained to Thor about jealousy, and how there was plenty of time to go around, and that he should include Loki. But Baldr did nothing.

And then he left, first shuttled off by Mother, after a prank went terribly wrong. Baldr is still unsure what actually happened – he, Thor, and Loki all had different parts of the prank, and it exploded in all their faces, but Baldr had been the only one injured. And with the palace in an uproar, Mother decided Baldr should rest somewhere else for a time.

But Njord’s court was completely different, and Freja had a lovely handmaiden who didn’t treat Baldr the way a prince should be treated – she spoke her mind, and walked away when he disrespected her, and met his eyes. None of Father’s servants ever dared do anything like it. 

She fascinated him. He forgot about Asgard and fell in love and eventually, a year after his arrival, he married her, without Father’s permission. Without Father’s knowledge.

For the first time in his life, Baldr was not the heir of Asgard. He was simply a man. And when Father disinherited and banished him, Baldr did not care. He had never wanted to be king, anyway. 

He didn’t think about his brothers even once, for years. 

And now his youngest brother is in the doorway, staring at him, a wolf at his side, pressed against his legs. “I assume Odin All-Father or Thor told you the truth about me, yes?” he asks, voice brittle and body held tight, one of his hands clinging to the wolf’s ruff.

“I was nearly a man grown when Odin All-Father came home with Loki,” Baldr tells him gently, meeting his gaze and not looking away. “I always knew.” 

“And you – is that why you always stayed away?” the boy demands, fragility hidden by rage, and the wolf’s lips peel back from his fangs. 

Baldr shakes his head. “I was nearly a man,” he says. “And then I ran away to Vanaheimr and vowed to never set foot in Asgard again.” He exhales sharply, eyes closing in a quick grief before opening them to meet his little brother’s gaze again. “You grew while I was gone. Forgive me, if you can.”

A long, terrifying moment passes in silence before the boy smiles and holds out the hand not on the wolf. “I am Evan Piers,” he says. “Call me Van.” 

“It is wonderful to meet you, Van,” Baldr says, stepping forward to grab his hand. 

“Come in,” Van invites, and with one glance at Thor’s blinding grin, Baldr follows him into the house.

Ash goes into the kitchen, dragging the wolf with him; the brothers all settle in the den. Van fidgets with the hem of his shirt, while Thor keeps opening and closing his mouth, clearly discarding various conversation starters. 

Finally, Baldr says, “Van, you would like my eldest daughter, I think.” 

Van looks up. “Mother and I visited just after – Ēostre’s birth, I believe. I vaguely recall the others. You have two more young ones, I think?”

Baldr nods. “I gave Father and Thor both a very brief overview. But you would appreciate their pranks, I think. Especially Fulla.”

A quick glance at Thor reveals his still-bright smile. “I spoke too much, earlier, about my companions. Baldr, please – tell me of my nieces and nephews.” 

“If you both are sure?” Baldr asks, giving them one last out. He can speak for hours about his children. “Very well,” he says, when neither takes it. “Then I shall begin at the beginning, with Fosite.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a weapon with no name, but Death knows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning   
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: violence, brainwashing, AU for every fandom involved   
> Pairings: pre- & past-Steve/Bucky   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1980  
> Point of view: third

There is a weapon with no name, but Death knows him. Death helped create him, in the life before Adam Pierson, and Death showed his masters how to aim and fire the weapon in their hands.

But weapons with no names are always weapons that turn, and Death could have told them that, too.

.

There is a soldier who slept in ice for seventy years. Death has seen his face in the nightmares the weapon never remembered having.

The boy who was before the soldier was a good boy. The soldier is a good man. And when he takes a bullet for Death’s son, a debt is made. (He did not need to take the bullet. Everyone knows that. But he took it anyway because he is a good man, and his first instinct is to take every hit.)

Death repays his debts, both good and bad, and the weapon is in the soldier’s nightmares, too.

.

Methos is a legend, and Death an older legend still, and above them all is Fyrstr, the legend legends themselves whisper about.

Ash is not a legend. Ash is a simple man, taking care of two boys, and that is that.

The Oldest asks the Lady of the Dead, _What do you think? Leave the weapon where he is, or bring him home?_

Hel refrains from rolling her eyes. _Do you gain anything either way?_

Fyrstr weighs the price of every possibility. _No, not really,_ he answers. _But Steve Rogers attempted to sacrifice himself to save Van, and I – I owe him for that._

Hel also does not shrug. She wants to, though. _Then give him back his – whatever the weapon was to him._

Fyrstr nods firmly, kisses Hel’s forehead, and returns to Van because his brothers are about to arrive.

.

Three weeks ago, Van and Gunnar were at Central Park, stretched out on a blanket and creating shapes in the clouds. It was early in the morning, a chill in the air, and Van was ahead by twenty points. 

Steve Rogers was halfway through his daily jog when he saw the man with the gun. He didn’t think; he simply charged forward, tackling the man and getting a bullet in the shoulder before even seeing who the man’s targets were: two men shoulder to shoulder on a blue blanket, staring at the sky. 

The bullet barely hurt, and neither of the men could have been truly wounded, but Steve still didn’t regret it.

Gunnar ripped their would-be killer apart, of course. The man had been strung out on half a dozen different drugs, but Van didn’t try to stop his brother. Steve didn’t protest either, one hand held to his shoulder. Van extracted the bullet and healed him without a scar a few hours sooner than he would have healed on his own.

Steve didn’t report it, when he got back to Stark Tower. He wondered, for a moment, if anyone would miss that man – but he hadn’t seen the man’s face, from where he landed on the ground, and then Gunnar had him. He didn’t know the man’s name. 

Van told Ash. And as Ash considered how to erase the debt, he remembered his life as Aleksei Lebedev, one of the Red Room’s more gentle operatives. He had been firm and patient, as they buried the American soldier deep in his own mind, leaving only a blank to fill as they wished. For thirty years, Dr. Lebedev handled the nameless weapon, the man they never spoke of outside the Red Room. 

When it came Dr. Lebedev’s turn to die, he left in the night and though the nameless weapon never asked after him, he did wonder.

The nameless weapon had dreamt of his life as an American soldier, and of the man who meant everything to him. And Dr. Lebedev never mentioned those dreams in any report, in any note, in any discussion of their weapon. 

But the man who meant everything to Aleksei Lebedev’s greatest creation… he would die for Ash’s son and never regret it. 

And that is a debt that Ash feels inclined to repay.

.

 _Wasn’t he just returning a debt?_ Gunnar asks, flicking an ear Ash’s way while glaring at the door separating him from Van and Van’s aesir brothers. _Van gave him back his life, so he tried saving Van’s._

 _It could be seen that way,_ Ash admits, dropping marshmallows into his cocoa. _But the weapon and good captain are both mine. The weapon – well, given more time, he’d be as good a fighter as you, little wolf. And the captain, he’s the sort who’s so good you just want to help him, you know?_

Gunnar actually turns his head to give him a look that’s clear even on a wolf’s face. 

Ash snorts. Of course Gunnar doesn’t know. He’s loyal to Van above anyone else, and he’d rip out Hel herself’s throat if he thought she was a threat to Van. No one else matters. 

But in his long life, Fyrstr has screwed many people over. And he rarely feels guilt for it. But Dr. Lebedev had wanted to take the weapon with him, to shelter the boy asleep deep inside. He’d shaken off the impulse, of course. He was still in deep cover mode at the time.

Only finding Van had negated the inclination of hiding what he is. Who he is.

 _You want to bring others into the pack,_ Gunnar growls, turning back to glare at the door. _We don’t need anyone else._

 _I have a debt to repay,_ Ash says firmly, carrying his mug to the table. _We won’t be keeping either of them. I’ll probably send the boy to Amanda, anyway._

Gunnar ignores him. Ash rolls his eyes and focuses on his cocoa.

.

Aleksei Lebedev was neither a good man nor a nice one. He was methodical, clinical, and he had steady hands. He created the weapon. He unmade the boy and remade him as a perfect weapon. 

Aleksei Lebedev was not an immortal who slipped through the cracks. He had no buzz at all, those thirty years he aged like a mortal and worked for Red Room. He was the primary handler for the weapon no one ever spoke of; he conducted most of the tests, wrote most of the reports, wiped the mind and put the weapon to sleep for years at a time. 

Aleksei Lebedev died on a winter’s day and no one from Red Room attended his funeral. He had no spouse, no children. He left no mark on the world at all that anyone outside of Red Room knew about.

When the weapon woke up to a stranger’s face, he did not ask after Dr. Lebedev. But he wondered, once or twice, when he’d be seeing that doctor again, the one with the gentlest hands, the one who looked at and _saw_ him.

.

What makes a monster? Anything that is different. Anything that is not understood. Anything that could be dangerous. 

Death laughs. Everything can be dangerous. And nothing is a monster that does not want to be. 

.

Ash looks down at Gunnar. “Would you prefer to come with me or stay here sulking?” he asks. 

Gunnar stands and shifts to his ás form. “You’re just going to leave him with them?” Gunnar snarls, rounding on Ash. “What if they take him?” 

Ash laughs softly. “Thor hasn’t seen his younger brother this happy in a long time, and he couldn’t, anyway. Baldr doesn’t have the skill or strength. He’ll be fine.” Gunnar scoffs, glancing back at the door. “If you come with me,” Ash says, “there might be someone for you to rip apart.” 

“Fine,” Gunnar mutters.

 _The wolf and I are running an errand,_ Ash calls to Van, before lightly touching Gunnar’s shoulder and stepping across the world.

.

The weapon sleeps in the hands of a warlord about to wake him and attempt to control him. It will go… very poorly. 

Gunnar stands at Ash’s side, in wolf form, patiently waiting for the word. “Go on,” Ash murmurs. “Everyone in there is prey except for the one in cryo.” 

Gunnar howls with joy and lunges through the door. Ash’s laughter fills the air as he follows.

.

The first thing he hears is a language he knows he shouldn’t know, but the words are clearly “Welcome back.” He blinks, grogginess fading as he exhales. 

A man stands across the room, a giant wolf next to him. Bodies litter the floor, in pieces. Going by the blood on the wolf’s muzzle, he knows how the bodies got there. 

“Sir,” he says. Russian, he thinks. 

The man smiles. “Things have changed. Your programming is out of date.” Not Russian. Not the first language, either.

“Sir,” he says again. He doesn’t recognize this man or the chamber, but he’s alive when he could have either been executed while asleep or still disorientated. He knows his memory isn’t complete, and he knows what he is: a weapon. He’s always been a weapon.

“I’m here to take you home,” the man tells him. The wolf turns and walks out – through the wall. Instead of reacting, he looks at the man. “Your mission is to reclaim who you used to be.” 

Definitely English, now.

“Who I used to be, sir?” he asks, baffled. 

The man smiles again. “Do you remember Dr. Lebedev?” 

“Yes,” he says. He does. Dr. Lebedev had been his favorite handler, though he never admitted to anyone that he had a favorite. Dr. Lebedev treated him like more than an asset – like he was human. More than a weapon. 

“Dr. Lebedev wanted to take you with him, when he left,” the man tells him gently. “He wished for you to become who you used to be.” 

He… doesn’t really believe that. But the man seems sure, and he’s not yet dead, and a mission is a mission. 

“Yes, sir,” he says, and the man nods, gesturing him over. 

“We can take the long way home, or the very short way. Up to you, kid,” the man says. The wolf stalks back into the room, stopping next to the man. 

“Short, sir,” he says after a long pause, when he realizes the man is waiting for his choice.

His _choice_. He is a weapon – he doesn’t choose anything. He receives and obeys orders. He carries out missions. 

Bodies litter the floor and he hasn’t yet been taken for examination. 

“Deep breath,” the man says, and touches his shoulder, and – 

They’re somewhere else. They’re somewhere else, and sunlight peeks through the window, and there are shelves full of books.

The man steps back. “If you could pick any name,” he says softly, “what would it be?” 

The first name that comes to mind, that he whispers without thought, is “Steve.”

“That’s good,” the man says. “That’s very good.” 

“Is that my name?” he asks, almost hopeful. He’d forgotten what hope felt like. 

“No,” the man replies. “Go ahead and eat something. Rest. We have all the time in the world.” 

.

There is man who used to be a weapon. He’s still a weapon, but now he is also a man. 

His name is just out of reach. He’s in a kitchen, sitting at a table, eating a sandwich he made himself. A wolf is stretched out on the floor. A stranger is preparing tea, a young man who introduced himself as Van, and called the wolf Gunnar. The man who brought him here is Ash. 

“Da’ll be back soon,” Van says. 

Ash is Van’s da. They look the same age, but that’s not the weirdest thing he’s seen since he woke up this time.

His mission is to eat. To rest. To reclaim himself. 

He has choices now. 

His name is just out of reach, but it’ll come to him. 

( _Steve_ , he thinks, staring down at his sandwich. That feels right. He has no idea why.

He will soon.)


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I owe you a debt, Captain,” Ash says. “To clear it, I’ll return James Barnes to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: a taste of lightning   
> Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: schoompy, I think  
> Pairings: pre- & past-Steve/Bucky   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1070  
> Point of view: third

Ash walks in the front entrance of Stark Tower and smiles at the man behind the desk. “I’d like an appointment with Steve Rogers, please,” he says. 

“Of course, sir,” the man replies.

.

Two days pass before Rogers can meet. Ash knows that if he’d used his real name, there’d have been no wait. He could also just pop in whenever he feels like. 

But he wants to do this right. Captain America believes his childhood friend is dead. And Black Widow will only confuse things, though Ash is sure she also believes the weapon she knew to have been used for parts years ago.

He’s sitting at the table in the meeting room when Rogers walks in. “Ash,” Rogers says, surprised, pausing in the doorway. He glances over his shoulder before sitting at the table. “How can I help you, sir?” he asks.

Such a polite boy. Ash grins. “You took a bullet for my son. I owe you a debt.” He studies Rogers for a moment, and Rogers stoically looks back.

“I would’ve taken that bullet for anyone, sir,” he says. “I didn’t know it was Van, but that makes no difference.” 

Ash nods. “I understand that, Captain. It is… unusual.” Ash has existed for a very long time, and knows exactly how unusual that is. He steeples his fingers and rests them against his lips, considering Rogers again. “Do you remember a man named James Barnes?” he asks. 

Rogers’ eyes widen and he flinches – and then he gets angry. Ash calmly looks at him, as Rogers leans across the table, fists clenched. “What are you after?” he demands. 

“I owe you a debt, Captain,” Ash says. “To clear it, I’ll return James Barnes to you.” 

Rogers’ fingers dig into the table. “What in the hell are you talking about?” 

Rogers knows that Ash can raise the dead; he’s experienced it firsthand. But Ash takes pity on the man and gently explains, “Your friend did not die, Captain. He was taken by the Russians, shattered, and pieced back together as the perfect weapon. I have custody of him, at the moment; I took him from his most recent would-be masters.” 

Rogers doesn’t seem to be breathing, staring at Ash. So Ash says, “He’s happy, at the moment. He doesn’t remember anything before Red Room.” He pauses, meeting Rogers’ gaze. “Except your name.” 

The table splinters.

.

In his dreams, he’s falling. Every time. He’s falling, fingers grasping for something he can never reach. There’s an icy wind blowing, and he’s falling, and he wakes up before hitting the ground. 

Ash has yet to tell him his name. Van happily shows him how the library is organized. Gunnar stalks him in wolf form, but eats breakfast as a man and politely asks him to pass the salt. 

He feels safe in Ash’s house. He never felt safe in Red Room. He had orders and he followed them; he had missions and he completed them. He had targets and he killed them. 

His orders now are to loaf around and rest. His mission is to reclaim what Red Room stole, what he never missed before opening his eyes to a room full of corpses. His target is himself. Whoever he was. 

In his dreams, he’s falling and screaming, “Steve!” 

.

 _You like him,_ Van laughs, poking at Gunnar’s shoulder. Gunnar growls, flicking an ear his way before huffing. 

_I do not,_ he grumbles. 

Van laughs again. _We’re not keeping him,_ he says. It has been fun, feeling like an older brother these past few days, but they cannot keep him. He has someone waiting for him, someone who loves him. Someone he loves. Van’s fingers tighten in Gunnar’s ruff, because there have been so many months he couldn’t touch his wolf. When Gunnar was on missions for Hel, when he was hiding and fleeing realms. 

_I’m here,_ Gunnar whispers, pressing back so that Van could wrap his arms around him. _I’m here and I’m yours._

_Yes_ , Van murmurs, resting his head on Gunnar’s flank. Yes. Gunnar is his, and Ash is his, and he is theirs, and nothing can ever be taken from him again. 

.

He’s sitting in the den, curled up with a novel about magic and teenaged heroes, when Ash knocks on the doorframe. “Kiddo,” he says. “I have someone here who wants to see you.” 

He looks up, past Ash, but whoever’s behind him is hidden by the wall, so he focuses back on Ash and closes the book. “Who?” he asks, his heart chanting _Steve, Steve, Steve_.

Ash smiles, stepping into the room. A tall blond man slips in behind him, eyes wide, mouth open, hands fluttering at his sides. 

“Bucky,” he whispers, then louder he says, “Bucky!” 

“Steve,” Bucky says, eyes closing as he sags down. 

As he remembers. 

.

Bucky is alive. Bucky was never dead. 

Bucky is _falling_ \- so Steve lunges for him, and catches him, and clutches him close like he couldn’t seventy years ago. He rests his cheek on the top of Bucky’s head, and he apologizes, he begs for forgiveness, he promises and swears to never let Bucky go again, he squeezes so tight –

And Bucky’s arms wrap around him, Bucky’s fingers grip his shirt, and Bucky whispers into his chest, apologies and explanations, seventy years he did horrible things and Steve wasn’t there, Steve wasn’t even a ghost in his mind – 

“You knew my name,” Steve says, and Bucky quiets. “Ash said – you knew my name when you didn’t know anything else.” 

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs, leaning back just far enough to raise his head and meets Steve’s eyes. 

“Bucky,” he replies. 

Bucky’s alive. Bucky’s _here_ and _safe_ , and Steve pulls him back in, holding on as tight as he can. 

He’s never letting go again.

.

Ash backs out silently, smiling, and turns towards the kitchen. He feels like jambalaya tonight, and he’s pretty sure none of his boys have had it yet. 

He thinks about calling Amanda, telling her he’s sending two kids her way for babysitting – but maybe he’ll keep them for himself. 

_So… we are keeping them?_ Van asks sleepily, and Gunnar echoes the question in a rumble, mostly asleep. 

_… maybe_ , he answers, pulling a pot out of the cabinet. 

_Brothers are good, I’ve learned,_ Van says. 

Ash chuckles. His son has come a long way, since that bitter, terrified child he found. _Yes,_ he says. _Brothers can be a very good thing._


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm mostly out of the Marvel fandom, and have completely lost my grasp of Loki's voice, so this fic is mostly never to be finished. Here's a small snippet of the fallout of Methos adopting the ex-Winter Soldier, the very last thing I have written.

"There are no traps in his mind," Ash tells Nikolas. "Have one of your pet telepaths check, if you must."

"Your word is more than good enough for me, brother," Nikolas says. "But the Council - I can't explain you, and I’m pretty sure you'd kill 'em if y'all ever met." He shrugs. "Pet telepath it is."

Ash grins at him. "How much longer will this Council survive?"

Nikolas shrugs again. "Until I decide they're more hassle than they're worth. So - not long."

**Author's Note:**

> Commentary [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/838284)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fic DVD Commentaries](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795196) by [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf)




End file.
